A Texas Promise

by Laura Conner Kestner

  Scowling, Hollis shook his head. “Not a bit. I can’t imagine where she’s disappeared to.”

  “Lots of countryside. If she made it to the train she could be in Fort Worth, or anywhere by now.”

  “True. When I find her, I’m never letting her out of my sight again. The poor girl’s not in any condition to take care of herself.”

  A chill swept over Eli. He knew Maggie Radford was lying to him about something, maybe everything, yet for some reason he trusted her more than this man. But he still needed information. He was getting ready to dig for more, when Nathaniel started down the stairs.

  Nathaniel reported to Hollis Anderson that Nelson Radford seemed to be fine, and then he and Hollis shook hands. It was all Eli could do not to visibly cringe. He hated having to pretend to like this man. Even if he hadn’t dealt the blows to Maggie himself, Hollis was responsible.

  At the thought of the bruises on Maggie’s body, it took all Eli’s control not to pull back his fist and hit Hollis right in the middle of his smug face before they left.

  Once outside he waited until they’d reached the street before questioning his brother. “So what was Mr. Radford like?”

  “He seems like a nice man, and, except for being a little on the frail side, he appears to be in good health, physically and mentally.”

  “I have to wonder how nice he is if he agreed to placing his daughter in a lunatic asylum.”

  “I know,” Nathaniel agreed. “It is confusing. While we were talking, I asked about his family, and he talked about his daughter. His only child. The man’s expression softened, and he spoke of her with pride. I’m not sure he knew exactly where Maggie was being kept.”

  “Did you ask him about Hollis?”

  “I did, and his answers indicated that Hollis is not holding him here against his will. He said Hollis is his friend, and is looking after him while his daughter is recuperating from a nervous condition. And he was adamant about the fact that she will be marrying the man.”

  “That means that at least for the time being we can’t raise a ruckus about Anderson being here,” Eli grumbled. “I don’t want to draw any attention to us, or Moccasin Rock, until we can figure out what to do. It sounds like both men are of like mind, and right now that could be dangerous for Maggie.”

  Nathaniel agreed. “So what did you find out while I was up there?”

  “Only that Hollis Anderson and his hired men still don’t have any idea where Maggie’s disappeared to.”

  “That’s at least some good news.”

  “True. Now we have to figure out what she’s hiding, before they figure out where she’s hiding.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Before leaving town, Eli and Nathaniel stopped for dinner at a little café near the railroad depot. The food was good, and the servings generous. Eli stopped eating and started listening when the men at the next table began talking about the fire at the asylum.

  He caught Nathaniel’s attention and motioned for him to listen.

  “I’m heading back out there after I eat,” one man said.

  “They still cleaning up?”

  “Yep, hopefully be finished soon. And no nasty surprises like the last time.”

  “That your first dead body?”

  “No, just a horrible place. Bad things happened out there. Don’t feel right.”

  His dining companion laughed. “You’re not superstitious, are you?”

  “Before I can answer that, you’ll have to tell me what it means,” the other man said.

  The Calhouns both smiled, then Eli whispered to Nathaniel, “While we’re here, you want to take a look around at the asylum?”

  “Why not,” Nathaniel said.

  They paid for their meals and hurried out, so they could be waiting when the other men left. It was only a few minutes before one of them did.

  “We overheard you talking about heading out to the asylum,” Eli said. “Was wondering if we could hitch a ride with you.”

  The man—who said his name was Cap—didn’t seem interested until Eli mentioned they’d pay. “Okay, I’ll take you, but you’ll have to find your own way back,” he said. “I got work to do out there, don’t know how long it’ll take.”

  “No problem.”

  Nathaniel hopped in the back of the wagon, so Eli took a seat beside the driver. “I heard you saying it was a horrible place. What did you mean?”

  The man gave him an uneasy look. “People dying, crazy women running loose. Heard that some of them were murderers, and at least one of them escaped. I want to get done and get outta there.”

  Cap was sweating, which, considering the temperature, seemed strange. Eli shifted in the seat, and glanced over to see the man staring at his badge.

  Shaking now, Cap pulled on the reins, trying to stop the wagon. He was about to make a run for it.

  Eli grabbed his arm. “Just tell me what’s going on. I’m not here to arrest you.”

  “I don’t know how that girl got in my wagon,” he blurted. “I was supposed to meet up with some man in Moccasin Rock, and bring back a load of corn for the patients here. I got there early and was going to grab something to eat first. I parked in the alley. That’s when I saw that dead girl. I swear, I didn’t kill her.”

  It finally dawned on Eli that the man was talking about Maggie. “Why didn’t you go for help?”

  “I was afraid that everyone would think I killed her.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “After I ordered my meal—which I couldn’t even eat cause my belly was churning—I decided to get rid of the body. I planned to leave her somewhere, and then hightail it out of there.”

  “What happened?”

  Cap looked at him, wild-eyed. “She was gone when I got back. I was so spooked I just ran. Not sure what happened, but I did not kill that woman. You got to believe me.”

  “I do,” Eli said, relieved they’d had this little talk where no one would overhear. “That’s all I wanted to know. Since you’ve been so helpful, and even though it probably means you left here while the asylum was still burning instead of sticking around to help, I won’t tell anyone else about your involvement. As long as you don’t go around talking about it. Deal?”

  The man nodded at him eagerly, grabbed the reins, and set the wagon in motion again.

  It didn’t take long to reach their destination. From the corner of his eye Eli saw the driver set the brake, jump down and take off. Probably never to be seen again. Eli didn’t care; his attention had been captured by the Fair Haven Lunatic Asylum.

  It was an eerie, almost unbelievable sight.

  It had obviously been a showplace at one time—three stories of dark red brick, steeply-pitched roofs, at least five chimneys, massive porticos, and a wrought iron fence with fancy little curlicues running along the top. But it wasn’t a showplace now. There were busted windows and missing shingles. Bars had been installed on the windows of the ground floor, but none on the top. No one could escape from up there. A broken hinge on the gate had left it hanging.

  Only part of the place was burned. The way Maggie had talked, Eli had expected to see charred ruins. Of course, in the dark of night, from the inside, it must’ve seemed like the whole world was on fire.

  One of the men milling around outside the place turned to stare at them, coming forward when Eli and Nathaniel stepped down from the wagon.

  “I’m Sheriff Shiloh Clark,” the man said. “What can I do for you fellows?”

  Eli told him their names, but before he could come up with an appropriate, but vague, reason for being there, his brother did. “I’m treating a patient who was held here briefly,” Nathaniel said. “I was in town on another matter, and heard folks talking about what happened out here. Out of curiosity decided to stop by.”

  “It seemed too strange to be true,” Eli added.

  “Yeah, it’s strange all right,” Shiloh Clark said, “but unfortunately, it’s true.”

  “I’ve never seen anythin
g quite like this place,” Eli admitted. “Mind if we take a look inside?”

  “Can’t wander around,” Shiloh said. “But I don’t mind showing you the front room.”

  Eli followed the sheriff up the steps and inside, where signs of the original grandeur were still evident—expensive woods, marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and a fire place big enough for a full-grown man to stand up in. A wide staircase in the center of the room swept off into two separate staircases when it reached the second floor—one curving to the left, the other to the right. Nothing was burned, but there was smoke damage.

  “What’s the story on this place?” Nathaniel asked.

  Sheriff Clark tilted his hat back. “It was built by a man back east for his wife and daughters in the 70s.”

  “This must have cost a fortune,” Eli said. “In materials alone. There wasn’t much of anything in this area back then, let alone a place to find marble and mahogany. How did he even get it all here?”

  “Believe it or not, he had materials shipped in to Galveston, from all over the world, and then freighted in from there by ox and wagon. Took him years. I’ve heard that several times the wagon trains were attacked by Indians. And they had to deal with outlaws. There was bloodshed over this monstrosity from the very beginning.”

  Awed, Eli continued studying the structure. “I guess my question is why would he build here? Nothing personal, but Fair Haven doesn’t seem like a logical location, especially then.”

  Shiloh Clark shrugged. “I don’t understand it either. Some people called him an eccentric. Seems to me he was just crazy. He’d made his fortune and grown bored. He was convinced there was untapped wealth to be had in this part of Texas. I sure ain’t seen none of it.”

  Eli stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the cedar covered hills. “How long did they live here?”

  “Never did. The man finally convinced his wife to come and see it, thinking she’d fall in love. She didn’t. His girls were nearly grown by then, and they didn’t want to live here either. He took them back into town and the whole family was gone the next day. Nobody seems to know what happened to the man after that. This place was empty and a nuisance for years. There was a caretaker, but he was always calling on us to help run people out of here.”

  “So how did it become an asylum?” Eli asked.

  A troubled expression crossed Clark’s face. “A few years ago a man by the name of Manson Mitchell showed up and said he was buying this place and was going to fix it up. To be honest, we didn’t really know what was going on out here until we heard about the fire.”

  “Somebody had to know,” Eli said, “for there to be patients out here.”

  “We knew it was an asylum. We didn’t know about the experiments.”

  A chill crept up Eli’s spine. “What kind of experiments?”

  Shiloh took off his hat, tapping it against his leg as he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t really understand it all, but it wasn’t good. We found some strange looking contraptions in the basement—more than the usual straps, chains and things. He’d even set up an operating room. Dr. Mitchell was either doing surgeries on these women, or planning it. There were boxes of files in one of the unburned rooms. I don’t know anything about medicine, and don’t want to, but even I could tell that some of it seemed more like torture than cure. ”

  He led them to the front door. “I don’t like to talk ill of the dead,” Shiloh added, “but I’m glad the fellow died here. Course, there were some innocent folks who died too.”

  Outside, Eli craned his neck to get a better view of the upper floors. A bird flew out through one of the broken window panes and he thought of Maggie trapped here.

  It would be disturbing enough to walk into a place like this under your own power, but to be hauled inside against your will, when you were in your right mind, was unthinkable. Even the women who genuinely needed help, didn’t need this kind.

  “I still don’t know exactly what all happened out here,” Shiloh said. “But there’s a girl that hasn’t been accounted for. I suspect she holds the key. Her family is searching for her. When they find her, I plan to get some answers.”

  Maggie was running out of time. And where did the baby fit in? Not one person had mentioned her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maggie greeted Eli with a hesitant smile and hopeful eyes when he stopped at Peg’s just before noon the next day.

  “Do you have news of my father?”

  “Yes, Nathaniel was able to see him. He seems to be physically frail, but of sound mind.”

  Her smile brightened. “That’s wonderful. Please, tell me all about it. Do you mind if we talk in the kitchen?”

  “Not at all. I also have some questions for you, since we didn’t get much of a chance to talk yet.”

  Maggie’s smile slipped a little, but she led him to the back of the house without further comment.

  She waved him toward one of the kitchen chairs, while she hurried straight to the stove. Eli was surprised to see her doing so well. She hadn’t actually given birth he reminded himself, but still he was impressed.

  Her hair was tangle free, brushed smooth and shiny, and pulled back with a yellow ribbon. The scratches on her face were starting to heal. Dressed in a faded yellow and white gingham dress, one of Peg’s he supposed, she had on thick socks, but no shoes.

  She sure looked prettier in Peg’s dress than she had the late Mr. Harmon’s clothing.

  The baby was sleeping in a box on a chair. Eli stood and stepped closer. She too, looked a lot better.

  He glanced up to see Maggie watching him.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked.

  Maggie smiled. “Peg thinks she’s going to be all right.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Eli said.

  While Maggie used a fork to turn pieces of chicken sizzling in a cast iron skillet, he filled her in on the visit to Fair Haven. He’d only gotten as far as saying that Hollis Anderson opened the front door and let them in when she turned to him with surprise that quickly turned to anger.

  “Are you saying that Hollis has taken up residence in my home?”

  “It sure looked that way,” Eli said.

  “There’s nothing I can do about that, yet,” she said. “But Lord willing, that man will be out of our lives soon. So did you actually get to see my father?”

  “I didn’t,” Eli said. “Anderson would only allow Nathaniel to go up. But he assured me that your father was in good shape. Now, I have a few questions for you.”

  She bit her lip and turned back to the stove. “Can it wait until after we eat? You’re welcome to stay. There’s plenty.”

  Eli’s stomach protested as he opened his mouth to decline the invitation. The smell of the chicken, mashed potatoes, greens and cornbread was making it awfully hard to turn the offer down. But was it the food that made him want to stay? He needed to tread carefully here.

  “Sheriff?”

  Eli blinked when he realized he’d been staring at her.

  “Will you stay for dinner?”

  Eli couldn’t think of a polite way to refuse the invitation; perhaps because he really didn’t want to. “You sure you have enough? Don’t want to intrude.”

  “Oh, yes. There’s plenty.”

  She thrust a bowl of mashed potatoes into his hands and asked him to place it on the table just as Peg Harmon walked in.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” Peg said with a smile. “You figure on staying?”

  “Yes, ma’am. If it’s all right with you.”

  “Sure it is. Have a seat.”

  Within a few minutes they had all the food on the table. He waited until the women were seated before he pulled up a chair. He didn’t really feel comfortable saying grace, and was relieved when Peg did.

  “How are things in the sheriffing business?” Peg asked as she scooped up some mashed potatoes for his plate.

  Maggie added a couple of pieces of chicken, and the other food while Eli answ
ered. “About like always. Long stretches of nothing at all, then everything happens at once.”

  “I guess that’s the way it is with about everything,” Peg said. “Same with me.”

  Eli had known Peg Harmon for a year, but really didn’t know much about her, except that she was a widow. Nathaniel worked with her a lot, but it was the first time Eli had ever spent any time in her company. She’d always seemed brusque and no nonsense. He was surprised to find her pleasant company.

  And Maggie, well, she pretty much talked nonstop after Peg got quiet. And although the younger woman’s voice was soft and pleasant, there was a desperate edge to it that saddened Eli.

  She was either trying to distract herself from thoughts of the coming conversation, or distract him. She talked about the weather, the train service to Fair Haven, even her favorite foods. He couldn’t make himself bring up the questions about the asylum or the baby…yet.

  “This is an excellent meal,” Peg said to Maggie. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “I’m curious myself,” Eli admitted. “Even though Hollis Anderson mentioned being understaffed, it looks like y’all had plenty of help there.”

  Maggie waved a hand. “We do. But my father only ever liked my mother’s cooking. I learned at her side. When she died, I began preparing food for him. We had servants for everything else. My father was good at making money. My mother was good at making my father happy. She spoiled him, pure and simple.”

  Considering what Maggie had said when he caught her trying to escape, Eli couldn’t resist asking her another question. “Do you think it was wrong of her to devote her time to your father?”

  Maggie’s expression softened. “No. The devotion was mutual. My father adored my mother. I don’t recall him ever saying a cross word to her. He told me once that he considered it a privilege to provide for her.”

  When the baby fussed, Maggie left the table to prepare a bottle, but she didn’t stop talking.

  When Peg finished eating, she offered to put the baby to bed in the other room.