by G. S. Carr
Alice stepped back, finished with her work. Hands on her hips, she waited for him to take off the coat and asked, “And you believe Chief Struck by the Ree?”
“Without a doubt. He is a man of honor, even though many have not given him the same courtesy.” He focused on Deena. “I heard about the incident with the pigs in the river yesterday. I can assure you the Ihanktonwan people had nothing to do with it.”
Deena nodded in agreement. “For what it’s worth, I believe you. The first night I was here, I saw a feather headdress that the real culprits left on Alice and Jonathan’s farm. I don’t know much about their culture, but I knew enough to tell that someone was trying to frame the Ihanktonwan.”
“It’s nice to know I have an ally. I understand their concern, but I fear people are letting go of reason in exchange for an easy enemy to blame.” He shook his head. “However, that solves nothing in the end.”
“Agreed,” Deena replied.
“I, for one, want the real bandits caught and tried for this whole thing,” Alice added. “That way, we can get on with our lives and not have to sleep with one eye open all the time. We worked hard proving up our land and making this town something we can be proud of. No sneaky rascal is going to take that away from us.”
Mr. Baile stared off at nothing in particular, slowly stroking his chin. “I have my suspicions about who the real culprits are, but I won’t share them until I have more proof.”
“If you need help in any way, let us know,” Alice said.
“Yes, please do,” Deena agreed.
“Thank you, ladies, for that generous offer. I hope never to have to take you up on it, as I’d hate to put you in harm's way, but I shall if I must.” He handed his coat to Alice, then picked up his hat. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must be going. It was lovely chatting with you both.”
“Come back by next Tuesday, and I’ll have this ready for you.”
“Thank you. Farewell.”
Mr. Baile exited the shop with all the pomp and prance of an English dandy. Deena giggled to herself. She liked him.
Alice draped his coat across a nearby table, then turned back to Deena. “You mentioned having news for me. Tell me while I grab your wedding dress. We should only have to do this one fitting, then I can finish it up.”
“That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. You don’t have to rush on my dress. Asa and I aren’t getting married on Thursday.”
Alice whirled around, her eyes wide and glossy as porcelain teacups. She grabbed Deena’s arms, holding her at arm's length as if she didn’t know whether to hug or shake her. “What do you mean, you aren’t getting married? What happened?”
Deena held up her hands in surrender. “No, nothing bad happened. Asa decided he didn’t want to marry until all this is over. He’s trying to keep me safe.”
“Oh, good. Next time start with that.” Alice placed a hand on her chest. “You scared me. Had my heart about ready to burst. After what Billie put Asa through, I can’t stand seeing that poor man getting hurt again. That harlot nearly broke him. If it weren’t for SaraGrace, he might have lost himself at the bottom of a bottle.”
The ever-present dull ache of guilt flared up inside Deena. She almost wanted to tell Alice not to be relieved just yet. “What happened between them?”
“Not my story to tell. But I’m sure if you ask him, Asa will share the details with you.”
“You’re right. I should hear it from him.”
“Well, shoot. I had my mouth fixed on eating some of Mrs. Paty’s mud apples. I don’t know how she makes them taste so good.”
“Sorry to ruin your chance of having some of Mrs. Paty’s cooking. I feel the pain of that loss, too.”
Alice scratched her hairline near her temple. Then, she slapped her thigh, her face lighting up with an idea. “You know what. Everyone was planning on making stuff anyway. We can throw a barn dance instead. We’ll push it back to Saturday to give us time to prepare.”
“That sounds like a good time.”
“Hopefully, it will lift everyone’s spirits. We’re overdue for some fun around here. I’ll coordinate with Mrs. Paty.” Alice tapped the platform with the toe of her shoe. “Well, get on up here and let's still do this fitting. I won’t rush, but I’ll still work on it, so it’ll be ready whenever you need it.”
Alice walked away to retrieve the dress, and Deena stepped up onto the platform. She kept her gaze on the ground, unable to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t want to see herself in the wedding dress. The symbol of the life she desperately wanted, but wasn’t going to have. This was all temporary. Sooner or later the real Pearl would show up to claim what was rightfully hers.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Deena stood outside the small, one-room church, unable to make herself enter. The large, black cross affixed above the door contrasted with the rest of the white exterior, making it shine like a beacon of hope to some, and a warning to those like her.
Maybe she shouldn’t go in. After all, she planned to ask a man of God to help her decipher something she’d stolen from someone else. There had to be some sacred biblical law she was breaking by roping the missionary into her sin. Resolve shaken, Deena turned to leave.
“May I help you?”
Deena spun back around. A gentleman wearing a black frock coat over a black waistcoat and a crisp, well-pressed white shirt, stood in the previously empty doorway of the church.
He appeared to be in his mid-to-late fifties. His long, bushy sideburns—the only hair on his otherwise clean-shaven face—grazed the top of his stiff lifted collar. The black stock tie cinched close to his neck almost appeared to be choking him.
“May I help you?” he repeated.
Deena took an unconscious step back. Her irrational fear must be reaching new heights. It was making her imagine his voice had an oily, fiendish quality to it.
“Good day, sir. My name is Deena Lyon. Are you the missionary here assigned to this church?”
“Indeed, I am. My name is Mr. Luke Thompson. Reverend Stevens is traveling around the state to other churches, so I am here in his stead. You’re the woman I was supposed to marry to Asa Grantt, aren’t you?”
“Yes. That’s me. I’m in need of your assistance if you have a moment to spare.”
“I always have time for anyone in need. Please come in.” He stepped to the side and held an arm out, beckoning her to come inside.
If he meant for the twisted curl of his lips to be a reassuring smile, he failed miserably. The prickling sensation in Deena’s scalp turned into a full shiver. He reminded her of the serpent tempting Adam and Eve into losing their home in the Garden of Eden.
Stop spinning such tall tales. He’s not out to get you.
Deena licked her lips and walked up to the church door. She hesitated for a moment before stepping over the threshold.
The inside was simply decorated. Several more crosses hung on the spaces between the three large windows on the right and left sides of the building. Eight rows of wooden benches lined each side, leaving a wide aisle in the middle.
A map lay on one of the benches, next to a notebook and pencil. She recognized the name Ruby Creek printed across the top. She’d made sure to memorize the written form of the town name before coming here just in case. Three more words she couldn’t read were printed in the bottom right corner. Something told her to remember what those words looked like.
“How may I help you today?” Mr. Thompson asked, closing the door behind them.
Deena wanted to demand he open it back. To give her a clear escape and increase the chance that someone would hear her if she screamed.
“I must confess that before coming to Ruby Creek, I stole something from a man, and since being here, I’ve been feeling guilty about it.” She reached into her reticule and withdrew the paper she’d stolen from Bloodlow. “I want to return it to the man, but I’m not sure what it is. It’s probably worthless, and returning it isn’t a valuable use of my
time, but I want to make sure before I dismiss the notion. I never learned to read. I can only recognize a few words here and there, so I was hoping you could do so for me. To help me decide what to do next.”
She held out the paper. Before Mr. Thompson’s fingers even touched it, his eyes went owlish, and he sucked in a sharp inhale. His upright, virtuous facade fell away, revealing the greedy swindler beneath.
“I’ll be.” He tore his eyes away from the paper and looked at Deena. “You said you don’t know what this is?”
Instinct told her to amend her declaration about her illiteracy, but the damage had already been done. “That is correct.”
This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have come to him for help. If anything, she should have risked asking Alice. Nothing about this man sat well with her.
“I’m glad you came to me. This is a bounty.”
“A bounty?” Deena repeated.
“Yes. On a rather notorious outlaw. Hence the reward being so high.”
That made no sense. Why would Bloodlow be carrying around a copy of his own bounty? “What about this picture here of the eagle? Why is that on there? Don’t bounties have pictures of the outlaw’s face on them?”
Mr. Thompson shrugged. “Some do. Some don’t. It all depends on if the lawmen had a good description of the man or not. And this is a federal bounty, hence the eagle.”
He was lying. Deena could sense it in the pit of her stomach. But she didn’t know enough about the topic to say for sure.
“You should leave this here with me. I’ll make sure to get it to the authorities.”
“Thank you, but no. I will handle it myself.”
Deena gripped the paper and tugged. Mr. Thompson didn’t let it go at first.
“Are you sure?” he asked, reluctantly releasing it. “I can take care of that easy. You wouldn’t have to bother yourself with going down to the sheriff's musty, old office.”
“That’s quite all right. I don’t mind. Won’t be a bother at all.”
“Where did you say you got that from?”
“I lifted it from a man named Pete Bloodlow.”
The color drained from Mr. Thompson’s face. He pulled on the collar of his shirt as if he were suddenly having trouble breathing. Bloodlow’s reputation must have spread farther than Deena realized.
“Well, if you will excuse me, I must be going.”
“May God bless you,” he replied, the first ounces of sincerity entering his voice since their conversation began.
Deena spun on her heels and headed out the door. Mr. Thompson didn’t attempt to stop her. He watched her leave, a sadness in his expression as if he were watching someone march to their death.
This trip had been a waste of time. She still didn’t know what the paper said, and now had a feeling something terrible was coming her way.
Home. She wanted to go home. To Asa. The only place that had made her feel safe in a very long time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A sprinkle of cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar over each layer. That was the secret to making the best sweet potato pie, according to Mrs. Paty. Miss a layer or forget one of those ingredients, and the taste wouldn’t be the same.
Deena repeated the combination over and over, trying not to forget it. She’d gotten it in her head to bake a pie for Asa as a “thank you, I’m sorry, and thinking about you” gift. Although she’d keep that last part to herself when she presented it to him. If she ever presented it to him. Baking required patience and other skills she was learning she didn’t possess.
“Knead the dough, querida. Not beat it.” Mrs. Paty said, coming through the back door into the kitchen.
She placed the basket of laundry she’d just taken down from the line on a counter and came up beside Deena. Mrs. Paty tsked at her rather harsh technique of handling the dough.
“Sorry.” Deena eased the amount of force she used on the gooey lump of flour.
“When a woman handles her baking like that, she’s either angry, hungry, or both. Which is it for you?” Mrs. Paty grinned.
Deena stopped kneading. She leaned both hands on the counter and hung her head. “Scared. I’m really scared.”
“Scared?” Mrs. Paty’s eyebrows knitted together. She hugged Deena tight. “Oh mija, what’s wrong? Tell me how I can help fix it.”
Deena rested her chin on Mrs. Paty’s shoulder, inhaling her soothing lavender scent. When she pulled away, Mrs. Paty gripped both of her flour-covered hands, refusing to break their connection. Deena didn’t mind. She needed it. The strength of someone else nearby, standing with her in the midst of her troubles. She was tired of being alone.
Now she was hopeful she didn’t have to be.
“I made a mistake. A big one. Several, in fact.” She scoffed at the understatement of her stupidity. “And now I don’t know how to fix any of it without hurting Asa.”
“Sometimes the truth hurts, but that doesn’t excuse us from telling it. You’ve made mistakes.” Mrs. Paty shrugged a shoulder. “We all have. Now you have the chance to learn and grow from it. To be a stronger woman.”
Deena shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can, mija. Nothing you’ve done is so big that it can’t be forgiven.”
“I’m not Pearl Wilson,” Deena blurted out. “My name is Deena Lyon. I was in a restaurant when I overheard Pearl speaking with Mrs. Crenshaw about Asa and how she couldn’t move out here and marry him for two months. So, I stole some of her letters and decided to take her place. Temporarily, until I could figure out what I wanted to do next.”
Mrs. Paty touched her fingers to the base of her throat. She stared through Deena. “Oh, dear. That is una muy grande lie. Come, let’s sit.”
They walked over to the dining table and sat across from each other. Once they were seated, Mrs. Paty immediately took hold of Deena’s hands again. One day Deena hoped to be able to express how much that small gesture meant to her.
“Why did you do it?”
“Because of this.” Deena reached in her skirt pocket and extracted the piece of paper that had started it all. She pushed it across the table to Mrs. Paty. “I stole it from a criminal named Pete Bloodlow. He hunted me down and caught me afterward, demanding I give it back. I’d probably be dead if a group of strangers hadn’t helped me.”
Mrs. Paty examined the paper. Unlike Mr. Thompson, her eyes didn’t glaze over with greed. Instead, she looked good and terrified.
“Do you know what this is?”
“No. I can’t read.”
“Can’t read? But you took Pearl’s letters.”
“I only know a few words that I’ve memorized. Basic words to help me get around and survive. But not enough to read full sentences or a book.”
“Then how… Wait.” Mrs. Paty took a calming breath. “Tell me your story. Start from the beginning, please.”
“Not much of a story to tell.” Deena extracted her hands from Mrs. Paty’s and wrapped them around her middle. “I ran away from my plantation in Virginia after my sixteenth birthday and headed up north. My old master’s son Mark started taking liberties I never agreed to give. I ended up in New York City. No one would give me a job, not even the factories.
I was another dirty ragamuffin from the South who couldn’t read or write in a horde of people just like me, all wanting the same thing. So, I started stealing to survive. I got real good at it. I watched high-class women and mimicked how they dressed and talked. That helped me blend in, so no one got suspicious when I came around to rob them. Then, I stole from the wrong man and had to run away again to save my life. I saw Pearl show Mrs. Crenshaw the letters Asa had written to her. I stole them and paid someone to read them to me. That’s how I ended up here.”
Mrs. Paty rose from her chair and paced back and forth. “This is a bearer bond.” She held up the paper. “Do you know what that is?”
Deena shook her head. “No.”
“This piece of paper gives the person who holds it the right to
claim the amount written on the front.”
“So, I can turn that in for money?”
“Yes. Five thousand dollars, to be exact.”
Deena leaped from her chair, knocking it over, and stumbled backward. “Five thousand dollars!”
No wonder Bloodlow had hunted her down. That was more money than she ever hoped to see in her life. And the missionary had lied to her. But why hadn’t he stolen it from her?
Because she'd said Bloodlow’s name. Clearly, Mr. Thompson recognized who he was. He probably knew as well as she did, there was no way Bloodlow would let someone get away with stealing that much money from him.
“I need to leave. I have to get out of here. Asa and SaraGrace aren’t safe with me here. Bloodlow is going to keep hunting me down until he gets this back.”
“No!” Mrs. Paty rushed over to Deena and grabbed her by the arms. “You will tell Asa the truth.”
“What? No, I can’t. I need to leave.”
“You care for Asa, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, which is why I need to run. I have to protect him from the mess I’ve created.”
Mrs. Paty gently cupped Deena’s cheek. “You ran from Virginia, then ran from New York. It never brought you peace. Stop running, mija. Tell Asa everything. He cares for you too. I can see it in the way he looks at you. Let him help you. The two of you can figure out how to handle this situation together.”
“But he already has so much to deal with. I don’t want to burden him further.”
“Helping the ones we love is never a burden. It is a sacrifice, yes, but never a burden. I wish my George were still alive. I’d do anything he asked of me, no matter how big or small.”
Deena bit the inside of her cheek. She suddenly desperately needed a drink of water to quench her parched throat. Telling Asa was the right thing to do. She couldn’t deny that. What she couldn’t believe was that telling him the truth wouldn’t lead to him seeing her differently. Right now, she was someone he was willing to spend the rest of his life with. Someone he looked out for and protected. If she told him she was a liar and a thief, he wouldn’t want her anymore.
