He dropped two sugar cubes into his coffee and stirred. “What’s that you’re working on, son?”
Toby lifted his pencil off the paper. “It’s a slingshot. It’ll be two miles high and three miles wide.”
“A slingshot, eh? Why so large?”
“It’s gonna send a man to the moon.”
“Can I go to the moon, Toby?” Elise asked.
“Nah, you’re a girl,” Toby said. “Girls can’t do anything.”
“If a boy can go to the moon, then so can a girl,” Maggie said.
Elise spit her tongue out at her brother. “So there!”
The corners of Garrett’s mouth quirked up. “We’re going to have to watch our step, son. It’s now two against two.” He sipped his coffee before adding another lump of sugar. “So what are you three doing today?”
The moon forgotten, Elise brightened. “Let’s go on a picnic, Miss Taylor. Pleeeeease.”
Going on a picnic was the last thing Maggie wanted to do. As much as she enjoyed the children, caring for them meant less time spent investigating, and that was a downright nuisance.
Garrett watched her over the brim of his coffee cup. “A picnic sounds like a grand idea, don’t you think?”
“Yes, doesn’t it?” Maggie turned toward the stove and poured batter onto the hot skillet. “Too bad you can’t join us.”
“Maybe I can.”
She glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze. For some reason, she suddenly had trouble breathing.
“I think Panhandle can manage the shop for an hour or two,” he said. “Pick me up at noon.”
Elise squealed with delight as she wrapped her arms around her father. The child never failed to bring a smile to his face, and today was no different.
Turning back to the stove, Maggie scooted the spatula under a flapjack and flipped it over. It was strange the way his relationship with his children made her own loss seem so poignant.
As a child she’d prayed her father would change his outlaw ways, but he never did. He didn’t even acknowledge her on the day he hung from the gallows. As they lowered the rope around his neck she yelled, “I love you.” She wanted so much to hear those same words from him, but they never came. Instead, he cursed her in that hateful way that he cursed everyone—even God.
Putting criminals away helped to alleviate her shame, but that was before she met Garrett Thomas. Now the thought of taking him away from the children who adored him nearly broke her heart.
Garrett sent Toby and Elise out of the room and joined her at the stove. “Smells good,” he said.
Obviously he had something on his mind, and her mouth went dry. Had she misspoken or made him suspicious?
Forcing an outer calm, she asked, “Would you like me to mail that letter for you?” She’d searched but failed to find an address book anywhere in the house.
“No need,” he said, patting his pocket. “I’ll drop it at the post office on the way to the shop.” He hesitated. “As you know, my former brother-in-law is back in town.” He paused, and she relaxed. Her secret identity was still safe.
He cleared his throat before continuing. “He might try to see Toby and Elise, and it’s imperative that he stays away from them.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Are you saying he means them harm?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just… he blames me for Katherine’s death, and I don’t want him planting ideas in the children’s heads.”
She frowned. “Why does he blame you?”
“He doesn’t believe her death was an accident,” he said, his voice harsh.
“Why would he think such a thing?”
“Probably because it’s true.”
Surprised by his unexpected admission, she stared up at him. Most confessions came after a skillful interrogation by an investigator, but this one fell in her lap. Still, it was only a small breakthrough; it was her job to elicit the rest.
“What happened that night?” she asked. Her voice, the way she looked at him, her very stance was adapted to invite his trust.
Before he could answer, black smoke spiraled up from the stove.
“Oh no!” Removing the skillet from the flame she dumped it into the sink. The flapjacks were burned to a crisp. Worse, their conversation had been interrupted at a most inopportune time.
Garrett flung the windows open, and Maggie wielded a towel to clear the air until only a thin haze of blue smoke remained.
“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping to reestablish their earlier rapport. She reached for the bowl of batter.
He stayed her hand with his own, and she felt her pulse thud. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, removing his hand. “I’ll get something to eat in town.”
She turned to ask him not to go, but he’d already left.
Slamming the bowl down, she glared at the soggy mess in the sink.
Maggie drove the buckboard through town, reaching Garrett’s shop twenty minutes before the prescribed time.
The children climbed out of the wagon, whispering among themselves.
“What are you two pumpkins up to?” Maggie asked.
Toby gestured to his sister. “Ask her.”
“Ask me what?”
“Can we go to Mrs. Button’s shop?” Elise glanced at her brother. “She always gives us penny candy.”
“All right. But don’t be long.”
The two children ran along the boardwalk toward the dressmaker’s shop.
Shaking her head fondly, she glanced up and down the street. Rikker was nowhere in sight, though his bright-colored medicine wagon was still parked near the hotel.
Toby and Elise returned smelling of peppermint just as Panhandle and Garrett walked out of the shop together.
Panhandle regarded Toby. Even though it was a warm day he still wore his funny cap, the rawhide ties hanging loose. “Hello, Aloysius Pepperpot,” he said and turned to Elise. “And you, young lady, must be Penelope Peachpit.”
Elise giggled. “I told you my name is Elise.” Apparently this was a standing joke between them. “And that’s Toby.”
“Ah, Toby. How could I forget?” Panhandle said, looking straight at Maggie. “Nice to see you again, Miss Taylor.”
“Nice seeing you, too,” Maggie said. She slid over and, taking the hint, Garrett heaved himself up to the driver’s seat.
“I shouldn’t be any longer than a couple of hours,” he said, taking hold of the reins.
“Take as long as you want.” Panhandle backed away from the buckboard.
“Gid-up!” Garrett called, and the rig rolled forward.
Maggie eyed Garrett’s profile, their interrupted conversation very much on her mind. What did he mean when he said Katherine’s death wasn’t an accident?
“How come Mr. Panhandle always wears that funny hat?” Elise asked from the backseat.
“He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s bald,” Toby said.
“When I’m bald I’m not wearing a hat like that,” Elise said.
“Girls don’t get bald, silly,” Toby said, his tone edged with brotherly exasperation.
“Are you going to be bald, Papa?” Elise asked.
“Maybe.” Garrett said, his eyes warm with humor. “You know what they say? Hair today, gone tomorrow.”
Maggie laughed. She couldn’t help it. At that moment it was difficult to believe him guilty of anything but an all-too-intriguing smile—and some very bad jokes.
It didn’t seem possible to find water in that dry desert land, but after an hour’s drive Garrett pointed to a river that cut through an outcrop of red rock and wound its way between two ribbons of sand.
Overhead the sky was azure blue and the air crystal clear.
“That’s the Gila River,” Garrett said. “Flows all the way to the Colorado.” He pulled on Patches’s reins and set the brake. “Caught me a four-pound squawfish awhile back. Tasted almost as good as salmon.”
He looked relaxed, and Maggie was hopeful that they could pick up
their earlier conversation.
Toby and Elise jumped out of the wagon with whoops and hollers. Leaving their shoes and stockings scattered on the sand, they ran toward the water’s edge.
“Watch for snakes,” she called after them.
Garrett lifted the picnic basket from the back of the wagon, and she reached for the blanket.
“You’re beginning to sound like their mother,” he said.
Not sure how to take his comment, she quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take Katherine’s place.” Though she had to admit the thought of being a wife and mother held a surprising appeal. A foolish notion at best. She’d seen too many broken families to think that domestic bliss was possible, given her profession.
“I meant it as a compliment,” he said. “The mother part I mean.”
She drew in her breath. “Oh. I thought—”
“Papa! Hurry!”
He waved at Elise. “Coming.” He waited for Maggie to spread the blanket on the sand in a spot of shade cast by a boulder. After setting the basket down, he pulled off his boots and rolled up his trouser legs. Growling like a bear, he dashed after the children.
Elise and Toby screamed at the top of their lungs with feigned terror and splashed him with water.
Maggie gathered the children’s shoes and stockings and arranged them neatly next to Garrett’s boots. Watching the three of them romp in the water, laughing together, filled her with mixed feelings. Never had she seen a man enjoy his children more than Garrett.
Their early morning conversation streamed through her head for perhaps the hundredth time. “He doesn’t believe her death was an accident.”
If not an accident, what did his brother-in-law think it was?
Garrett was thoroughly soaked by the time he joined her. She tossed him a towel, and he wiped himself dry and plopped down on the blanket next to her.
“I’m famished.”
“I’m sorry I burned your breakfast,” she said, hoping he would take the hint and finish where he’d left off that morning before they were so rudely interrupted.
He wiped his face dry and draped the towel around his neck. His mussed hair gave him a boyish look that did nothing for her peace of mind.
“No need to apologize. It was my fault,” he said.
She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she reached for the picnic basket and pulled out slices of roast beef left over from last night’s supper.
It probably wasn’t wise to wheedle a confession from him there, in the middle of nowhere. Anything could happen, and the last thing she wanted was to pull out her gun, especially with the children present. Still, a detective had to make the best of every opportunity, no matter how small.
As if to fill the gap between them, she spread plates of cheese, bread, and wild strawberries across the blanket. She then poured lemonade into two tin cups.
He picked up a fork and stabbed a slice of roast beef.
The roast beef had been cooked exactly as he liked it, with just a hint of pink in the center. Thank God for Mrs. Crowen and her American Lady’s Cookery Book.
The little ways Maggie had come to know him struck her as odd. Not since leaving the orphanage had she known another person’s likes and dislikes to such an extent.
She knew Garrett preferred his eggs over easy, his bacon burned to a crisp, and his coffee hot and strong. His preferences came to mind so easily she was momentarily struck by surprise.
That’s not all she knew. He liked two lumps of sugar in his coffee—and on some days even more—and salted his food as freely as a farmer scattered seed. He had trouble sleeping and often paced the floor between one and three in the morning. In little less than a week, his habits were almost second nature to her.
What she didn’t know was how to reconcile this loving parent and talented craftsman with the outlaw written up in the Pinkerton report.
As if sensing her gaze on him, he looked up and frowned. “I guess you’re wondering about this morning.”
That was putting it mildly. “You can’t drop a cannonball like that and expect me not to wonder.”
“I apologize.” He stabbed another piece of meat. “I don’t know why Katherine left the house that night.”
She studied his profile. “You said it was your fault.”
A look of resignation crossed his face. “Earlier that day we’d argued. Katherine never liked Arizona. That night she told me she was going back to Philadelphia with or without me and taking the children with her. That would have meant giving up my business and starting over. It also meant leaving Aunt Hetty here without family to watch over her. I didn’t want to do that, and I told Katherine as much. We argued, and she slept in the parlor.”
His voice grew hoarse. “Had she been in our bed that night, things might have turned out different.”
“You mean she might not have gone outside?”
His face was fraught with pain. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“But why did she? Your aunt said there was a storm.” Supposedly it wasn’t a night for man or beast. It didn’t seem likely that she’d leave the house in such weather to meet someone, even a lover.
“I don’t know why. I’ve gone over that night a million times, and I still can’t come up with an answer that makes sense.”
He sounded sincere, and she believed him. He might be a thief and murderer, but he was also a grieving husband, and that’s the man she reached out to comfort. She laid her hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to bring it all back.”
“You have a right to know what happened that night.” He squeezed her hand. “I wish I knew myself.” His gaze traveled to the distant horizon as if looking back in time.
“There was another reason I didn’t want to leave Arizona. A selfish reason. I spent a brutally cold winter in Andersonville, and hundreds of men froze to death.” His jaw tightened, and she heard his intake of breath. “I never wanted to see another winter like that. Never again wanted to know that kind of cold.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Like I said. Selfish.”
“I don’t think it’s selfish at all.” She shuddered at the thought of men freezing to death. No war could justify such inhumanity. “Did Katherine know how you felt about the cold?”
He shook his head. “She never liked me to talk about the war.”
The silence that followed was broken by Elise’s excited voice. “Miss Taylor. Over here!”
Maggie drew her hand away from his arm and waved. “I’ll be right there,” she called back. She turned to Garrett. “Anything else I should know?” she asked. Like what you did with all that money?
“Only that you better watch your step.” Just like that the darkness left his face, and he grinned like a schoolboy. “Toby and Elise are about to get you wet.”
Chapter 14
Already it was hot that Sunday morning as she pulled the buckboard behind the long row of wagons parked near the Furnace Creek Community Church.
Despite his negative opinion of organized religion, Garrett didn’t object to her taking the children to Sunday worship, but neither did he offer to join them.
Elise, as usual, was full of questions. “If God is everywhere, why do we have to come to church?”
“It’s easier for God to keep track of us if we’re all together,” Toby said.
Maggie smiled. It seemed the boy had an answer for everything. “Worshipping with others also helps us grow stronger in our faith. Just like spending time together makes a family strong.” That last thought caught her off-balance. Since when had she become an expert on families?
She set the brake and straightened her hat. “Come along, children.”
Church bells began to ring and a raven flew out of the bell tower, squawking in protest. With a child on either side, she walked up the graveled path to the carved wooden doors. People greeted them warmly as they threaded their way dow
n the center aisle to the empty pew in the middle row. Sun streamed through the stained glass windows, bathing the giant cross in front with bright rays of light.
The church was packed and only a few empty pews remained. Mrs. Higginbottom and her friends waved from across the aisle, and Maggie acknowledged them with a smile.
“There’s Aunty,” Elise said, pointing to a front pew occupied by Aunt Hetty and several other women.
“Shh. You can talk to her after the service.”
No sooner had they settled into their seats than the choir director turned to the congregation. “Please stand and turn to page one fifty.”
Maggie reached for the hymnal and flipped through until she found the right page. Standing, she held the book so the children could follow along. The organ ground out a few mournful chords, and the choir director turned to the choral group, arms raised. Right on cue, voices lifted in song.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in thee…”
For once Toby stood perfectly still. He seemed mesmerized by the choir and never took his eyes away from the altar. Today he looked more like his father than ever. For once his shirt was tucked into his waistband. His hair fell neatly from a side part, except for the cowlick that resisted all efforts to tame it.
Elise coughed, and Maggie reached into her drawstring purse for a piece of hard candy. Elise woke her up coughing last night, but she seemed perfectly all right this morning.
“Here, suck on this.”
The last chords echoed away and the congregation was told to sit.
Reverend Holly took his place behind the pulpit. Today he was dressed in a black robe that afforded him a commanding presence that his short stature otherwise failed to provide.
“Let us pray.”
The reverend didn’t lack for words. On and on he went, asking for God’s help with every possible affliction known to humankind—or at least known to Aunt Hetty.
Elise tugged on her arm and whispered something. “Shh,” Maggie hushed. “Tell me later.”
“Amen,” the minister said at last, and a collective sigh rippled through the sanctuary.
The moment Maggie opened her eyes she noticed the empty pew next to Elise. “Where’s your brother?” she whispered.
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