Logically he understood it was her job, but the less rational part of him could never forgive the lies and deception. Still, she had made him the happiest man alive—at least for a short while.
After Katherine died, he never thought he’d smile again, let alone love. Losing a loved one was the worst possible torture. He had never wanted to be that vulnerable again; to feel that much grief. That’s why a mail-order bride had sounded like the perfect solution. The idea of picking out a wife based on certain requirements appealed to him.
All he’d wanted was someone to care for his children. That’s all. Until meeting Maggie in person, he was willing to consider suggesting a marriage in name only, if that’s what the lady wanted. But one look into those big blue eyes of hers and he was hooked.
Not only did she steal her way into his home but also his heart. And there wasn’t a blasted thing he could do about it.
He shook his head in disgust. In the name of Sam Hill, what was he doing? Dwelling on his feelings for Maggie was of no help. His testimony. That’s what he needed to think about. Somehow he had to convince the jury he really was an innocent man.
God, what a mess! What must be going through Elise’s and Toby’s heads? He trusted Aunt Hetty to be tactful, but children always knew more than adults gave them credit for.
How could this have happened? Was Katherine involved in the train robbery? Katherine, the mother of his children? It wasn’t hard to imagine her brother was involved, but not Katherine. True, she was anxious to leave the Territory; it was the one area they disagreed on, the one flaw in their marriage. But that didn’t mean she was guilty of anything other than wanting a better education for her children.
And perhaps even a misguided attempt to help her brother.
The sheriff nudged him, pulling him out of his reverie. “Time to get a move on. Don’t want to be late.”
Outside, the sun was just rising over the distant mountains, and it took a full moment on the porch for Garrett’s eyes to adjust to the light. It was a two-block walk to the courthouse, but today something was different. Instead of the usual deserted street, a dozen or more people were gathered outside the sheriff’s office.
He recognized most all of them. Even Wayne Peterson had turned up for his walk of shame. No doubt Peterson was enjoying the sight of him in handcuffs. Just like the rest of them—including those he thought were his friends.
Some, like Peter Fann, had purchased tinware from him. Others had been at church the day he attended with Maggie. A few were at the dance, and one he hadn’t seen since Katherine’s funeral.
His mind skipped backward to the day he was led to Andersonville as a prisoner of war. The jeering crowd called the prisoners vile names and flung mud and worse at them.
He shook the memory away, but the bitterness remained. “Come to see a condemned man, did they?” he muttered.
The sheriff gave him a look of disgust. “You should be thanking these people.”
“Thanking them? For what? Making a spectacle out of me?”
“For trying to save your life.”
Garrett frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“These are all members of the church. They stood guard all night to make sure that no one tied a bow around your sorry neck before it’s time.”
Garrett was stunned. “They… they did that?” Even Peterson? He couldn’t believe it. All these years he had harbored ill feelings toward the church for its neglect of Andersonville prisoners. And now this?
“You were the enemy,” Maggie had said when he tried to explain his aversion to the church.
But he was the enemy here, too. What else would you call a suspected killer and thief? Yet, here they were: the very church people he had accused of lacking Christian values based on experiences of that awful war. Here they were protecting him and probably even praying for him.
Never had he felt more… what? Grateful? Humbled? Overwhelmed? He was all those things and so much more.
Moisture filled his eyes. He’d failed as a husband, a Christian, a friend, and even a soldier. Yet with all his shortcomings and flaws, he’d expected perfection from the church. Perfection from others… Odd as it seemed, it felt like someone reached inside him and pulled out all the anger, bitterness, and rage that had resided there for far too long.
He raised his face to the clear blue sky. It had been a long time since he’d felt God’s love, but he felt it now, and it burned brighter than the sun.
The sheriff held him by the arm as they walked down the steps. The church people moved back to give them room.
No one said a word as he walked by, and only a few acknowledged his nod of thanks with nods of their own. Peterson showed no response, but it didn’t matter. His being there was enough.
Instead of turning away from him as he had turned away from his church, all had put his safety and well-being above any personal feelings. That was more than he deserved, and by God, he intended to make it up to them.
Aunt Hetty lowered her needlework and gazed up at Maggie. “Why all these questions about Charlie Cotton?” She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you didn’t want to work on Garrett’s case.”
“I’m just tying up loose ends.” Maggie didn’t want to raise Aunt Hetty’s hopes. “We have reason to believe that Cotton knew about the satchel of money.” She kept her voice low. It was just the two of them in Aunt Hetty’s cramped parlor, but the children were only a short distance away in the kitchen.
Aunt Hetty’s eyes widened. “You think he put the money in the tree house?”
“Not Cotton. Katherine.”
This time Aunt Hetty dropped her needlework altogether. “Are you saying she stole the money?”
“No, but I think her brother asked her to keep the satchel for him. She may not have known what was in it at first. When she found out, she hid it.”
The lines in Aunt Hetty’s face deepened. “But why hide it in the tree house?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want Garrett to find it. Or maybe she was afraid that her brother would search the house.”
Aunt Hetty gave her a knowing look. “You really care for him, don’t you?”
“What?”
“For Garrett. You care for him.”
Maggie opened her mouth in denial but knew it would be no use. The harder she fought her feelings for Garrett, the more they persisted.
“Is it that obvious?”
“I’d have to be blind to miss the way you look at him.” After a moment she added, “He cares for you, too. You know that, don’t you?”
Maggie shook her head. “He’ll never forgive me for deceiving him.”
Aunt Hetty scoffed. “You’d be amazed what people can forgive if they put their minds to it. I even forgive that no-good, two-timing husband of mine,” she said, sounding anything but forgiving. Belatedly, she added, “May his soul rest in peace.”
Maggie bit her lower lip. There it was again, that old bugaboo: forgiveness. Okay, God, I get it. I get what You’re trying to teach me. If only it wasn’t so hard.
Aunt Hetty’s shoulders drooped, and she suddenly looked her age. “Garrett’s a good man. I don’t mean any disrespect to my poor dead sister, but I always thought of him as my son. I never was able to have children of my own. I don’t know what I’d do if—”
Maggie reached for Aunt Hetty’s hand. “We have to think positive and pray that the truth will come out.”
The sound of Elise’s voice drew her attention to the kitchen. “I need to talk to the children. It’s important. They might know something that will help their father.” The chances were slim, but she didn’t know where else to turn.
“I hope you’re right.” Aunt Hetty set her needlework on the table. Placing her hand on her back, she rose slowly from her seat and reached for her cane.
Elise looked up as they entered the kitchen, and a smile dimpled her cheeks.
“Miss Taylor!” she squealed. She ran over to Maggie and wrapped her arms around her.
“Where’s Papa?”
“He can’t come right now.” For the children’s sakes she hid her inner torment behind a bright smile
“That’s ’cause he’s in jail,” Toby said without bothering to look up from the contraption he was building.
Aunt Hetty stopped fussing with the kettle on the stove. “He never heard it from me.”
Elise looked up with a worried frown. “How come he’s in jail?”
Maggie didn’t want to overstep her boundaries, but neither did she want to ignore the question. “Some people think that he put that money in your tree house. Maybe you can help me prove they’re wrong.”
Whitewash must have heard her voice because he started to bark and scratch at the door.
After Elise let him in, Maggie stooped to pet him.
Whitewash greeted her with wagging tail and happy barks. Maggie couldn’t help but smile. Crazy as it seemed, she had even grown fond of the fluffy white dog.
“I hope he didn’t dig up your yard,” she said.
“No, he’s been a perfect gentleman,” Aunt Hetty said, distracting the dog with a bone.
Maggie led Elise back to the table. Toby was doing something with a pair of wagon springs. Hoping the wagon he’d raided wasn’t Aunt Hetty’s, she pulled out a chair and sat.
“Whitewash likes it here ’cause there’s no boogeyman,” Elise whispered.
“Oh, so that’s the reason he’s been so good,” Maggie whispered back.
“Uh-huh.”
Anxious to get to the point of her visit, Maggie addressed both children.” All right, now I need you to put on your thinking caps.”
Toby stopped what he was doing and reached for his metal helmet.
Elise’s mouth turned downward. “I don’t have a thinking cap.”
“Oh dear.” Maggie glanced around the kitchen. Spotting a saucepan that looked about the right size, she reached for it. She recognized it at once as Garrett’s work, and the pan slipped from her hand. The clamor startled Whitewash, who ran under the table with his bone.
She bent over to retrieve it and quickly placed it upside down on Elise’s head. “There. How’s that?”
Elise rewarded her with a wide smile.
“All right, now I need you to think carefully.” She paused until she had their attention. She planned to ask them if they had seen their uncle recently, and if so, where? But something Elise said stuck in her brain.
“Why do you suppose there’s no boogeyman here?” she asked. Didn’t children usually take their imaginary friends, foes, and the like with them?
“He doesn’t want Aunt Hetty to see him,” Elise said. “He doesn’t want anyone to see him. That’s why he only comes out at night.”
Maggie glanced under the table at Whitewash, and something clicked in the back of her mind. No holes. No boogeyman. Could there be a connection? Startled by the thought, she covered her mouth with her hand. What if the boogeyman was real?
“Tell me about him.” She rested her hand on her lap and forced herself to breathe. “What does he look like?”
Elise wrinkled her nose. “He looks like a giant and has big feet.”
“How do you know he has big feet?” Maggie asked.
“All boogeymen have big feet,” Elise assured her.
“Oh, I see.”
“And he wears his hair like Aunt Hetty,” Toby added.
Maggie puzzled over this. “You mean he wears his hair in a bun like this?” Maggie turned her head so they could see the back of her head.
Elise shook her head. “He wears it like that.” She pointed to Aunt Hetty’s topknot.
It was hard to know with Elise where reality ended and fantasy took hold. Toby was more realistic—sometimes alarmingly so.
“Can you think of anything to add, Toby?”
“Nope.” He was more interested in the wagon springs than in discussing hairstyles.
“What about you, Elise? Anything else you can tell me about the boogeyman?”
Elise shook her head, and the saucepan fell to the floor. She jumped off her chair to retrieve it and placed it back on her head.
Maggie turned the pan so that the handle stuck out in back. Thinking the boogeyman was anything more than the children’s imagination was crazy, but the thought persisted.
She directed her next question to Aunt Hetty. “You said you hadn’t noticed any holes in the backyard, is that right?”
“Not a one. Why?”
“Just asking.”
She always wondered how such a little dog could do so much damage. Now another thought occurred to her: What if Whitewash hadn’t dug those holes? What if it was Cotton or his partner looking for the long-lost money? Was that the mysterious boogeyman the children talked about?
Aunt Hetty set a cup and saucer in front of her. “I don’t know about you, but all this talk about a boogeyman is making me hungry. How about some tea and cookies?”
She needed to be alone with her thoughts, but rushing off would be rude, and she didn’t want to hurt Aunt Hetty’s feelings. “Thank you,” she said.
She picked up the steaming china cup, but her hand was shaking so much she could hardly hold it steady. Had she inadvertently stumbled upon a clue? Or was she simply grasping at straws?
Chapter 36
No sooner did Maggie leave Aunt Hetty’s than she raced to the jailhouse.
Already the gallows were being erected in the empty field behind Main Street. Each pound of the hammer felt like someone was driving a nail into Maggie’s heart. What was wrong with these people? Couldn’t they have waited until the verdict was read?
The sheriff greeted her with his usual “No visitors.”
“I’ll only be a moment.” She flashed her Pinkerton badge as she walked by his desk. She no longer had time to play his games.
Garrett sat on his cot writing in his notebook. He looked up as she neared his cell and look surprised to see her. “The children—”
“They’re fine,” she said.
“I was just writing them a letter.”
She nodded. “They’ll like that.” She wished now she’d thought to have the children write to him.
He set the notebook on the cot by his side. “Anything?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
He rose to his feet and grabbed the bars. “That sounds encouraging.”
She stepped closer. Casting a look at the sheriff still at his desk glowering, she lowered her voice. “How long have you had your dog?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Whitewash? A couple of years. Why?”
“Was he always a digger?”
“Not so much as a puppy.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that important?”
“I don’t know much about dogs, but for such a little fellow, he sure does a lot of digging.”
He frowned. “So what are you saying? And what does Whitewash have to do with my trial?”
“I don’t think he’s responsible for all those holes at the back of your house.”
“You think it’s another animal doing the digging?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” she said. “An animal with two legs.”
At long last Garrett was called to testify. It’s what he’d been waiting for. Now he could tell his side of the story, and by George, the jury better listen. He took his place on the witness stand, and his eyes immediately sought Maggie’s.
Sitting forward in her seat as if to jump to his defense at the slightest provocation, she gave him an encouraging smile. He hated that even now—even after knowing how she’d lied—he still had feelings for her. It didn’t seem possible, but it was true.
He pulled his gaze away, but only so he could concentrate on his testimony. His lawyer said it wasn’t enough to speak the truth; he also had to sound convincing.
He answered his lawyer Mr. King’s questions with a firm, clear voice. He looked at the jury as his lawyer had instructed, but he couldn’t keep from glancing at Maggie, who sat so still he wonde
red if she were even breathing.
“Your witness,” Mr. King said, taking his seat.
Mr. Fassbender rose and sauntered over to him. He had the same dogged expression as a certain hateful guard he remembered from Andersonville, and it was all Garrett could do to hide his dislike.
“Mr. Thomas, You testified that you hadn’t been in the tree house since your wife died.”
“That’s correct.”
“We heard testimony that you’re a conscientious parent,” Fassbender continued.
“I try to be,” Garrett replied, not sure where the prosecutor was heading.
“Yet, you never bothered to check your children’s tree house. Is that true?”
“Objection,” Mr. King said.
“Overruled.” The judge turned to Garrett. “You may answer the question.”
The implication that he had somehow neglected his children galled him, but he swallowed his anger. “I’m not sure what you mean by checking the tree house.”
“Most conscientious parents would keep an eye on what their children were doing and make sure their play area was safe.”
“It was safe,” Garrett said. “We made sure of that.”
“Yet, you expect us to believe you never set foot in the place for two years. Not even after knowing what your son was capable of?”
“My son?”
“It’s well known that your son can’t be trusted. Not that long ago, he set his aunt’s chicken coop on fire—”
Paternal rage exploded inside Garrett, but before he could respond King had already jumped to his feet. “Objection. Relevance.”
Fassbender spun around to face the judge. “Your honor, Mr. Thomas testified that he had no reason to check the children’s tree house for safety purposes. I’m simply attempting to understand the logic behind Mr. Thomas’s statement. His son set a coop on fire, and yet his father would have us believe that he trusted his son not to do damage to the barn.”
The judge banged his gavel. “Overruled.”
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