My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  While he waited, he looked out over the now-lush garden of the dwelling the pirate had audaciously painted bright red—the better to challenge those with weapons trained upon it—and settled his gaze on the bay beyond. Something startled snowy egrets fishing along the shoreline, causing them to launch upward against the wind on a backdrop of cloudless blue sky. A moment later they landed some twenty yards downstream and resumed their search for their next meals.

  This side of the island faced the mainland, but the bay’s depth and width gave it the same feel as the brown Gulf of Mexico on the other side. The only difference was the lack of sandy beaches here, the shoreline filled with marshes instead.

  Jonah turned to face that wind, placing his back to the bay and his attention on the home in front of him. Finally his feelings thawed. He was home. Or at least he’d returned to the place where he’d been born and raised.

  The place that, at least in part, made him who he had become.

  Though all that remained of that daring red house, allegedly filled to the rafters with ill-gotten treasures and topped by cannon turrets, was the cellar and foundation that now sat beneath a rather modern and stately home, rumors abounded that Lafitte had left something of himself behind in hopes of returning.

  This sentiment he understood.

  The three-story frame building was a rather unassuming structure when compared to his maternal grandfather’s grand residence on Broadway Avenue or his paternal grandfather’s New Orleans home, but its pedigree as having possible pirate treasure buried on its grounds served to set it apart from any other home on the island. This fact had earned him instant admiration from his childhood friends.

  Ahead of his time, Jonah’s father built the home with the main living spaces on the second floor and the bedrooms a floor above. This not only gave protection from the high water that occasionally flooded the property, but it also allowed for a bird’s-eye view from Jonah’s third-floor window and ample space on the dirt-covered first floor to dig for pirate treasures.

  His had been a unique upbringing for an island boy. Like all the others who grew up around him, his had been a life mostly spent at or on the ocean. Mama never verified Father’s repeated statement that owing to their seafaring life, Jonah was named after the biblical character who ended up inside a whale. Rather, she would merely laugh.

  And yet, unlike those other boys, he also had the benefit of a maternal grandfather named Asa Henderson whose first devotion was to science. Mathematics came in a close second, and all else including family trailed somewhere after. A minor celebrity in the city, Asa Henderson was hired by the Congress of the Republic of Texas to survey this land and create its symmetrical grid of streets and alleys.

  At Grandfather Henderson’s side, Jonah learned several things. Chief among them was the lesson of creating a straight line, the importance of walking a straight line, and the ability to see that not everyone agreed with the first two lessons. If pressed to admit it, those long hours spent in the dour old man’s presence shaped his career as a Pinkerton more than any other.

  Father taught him to fish and hunt, to live off the land and pilot any seagoing vessel. He also taught him to catch the delicious blue crabs that skittered about just beneath the water. Thanks to his father, Jonah was always well prepared for whatever situation he found himself in.

  Jonah lifted his nose to the familiar scent of salt air and frying chicken as it drifted past on the wind. On cue, his stomach growled, and he checked his watch. Likely Mama was supervising work in the kitchen about now.

  In his mind, Mama never aged when he thought of her. She had given him a different upbringing from the men who had shaped him. Her legacy then, as now, was to instill in him a strong sense of right and wrong and a strong desire to do something about injustice.

  He suspected it might be something in her past that set his mama on such a crusader’s path, but Jonah was never able to discover exactly what that was. Instead, he soaked in her stories of society and propriety, and in turn, she patiently stood by as he ignored them.

  “You there.”

  Jonah turned toward the sound and spied a fair-haired man of average height and slender build hurrying toward him. There had been a time when he knew everyone on this island, but with the growth of the city’s population, that was no longer true. Thus, he assessed the stranger as he would anyone he encountered in the course of his investigations.

  By the time he arrived at the edge of Cahill property, the stranger’s face was flushed despite the coolness of the spring temperatures. When the man reached into his pocket, Jonah instinctually placed his palm on his revolver.

  Instead of a weapon, the stranger withdrew a small notebook and then lifted his attention to give Jonah a direct look. “You’re a Pinkerton man, aren’t you?”

  Rather than respond, Jonah casually shifted back his coat just enough to show his revolver. To his credit, the stranger took a step backward.

  “I’m sorry, Detective. Where are my manners?” He stuck out his free hand. “Walt Townsend,” he said in a most agreeable tone, though his expression had gone wary. “You see, because I am relatively new to this fair city I pay a modest fee to the railroad folks for information on any stranger of interest who arrives on the island. Fortunately, I happened to be at the station when you arrived. Purely coincidence, but fortuitous, don’t you think?”

  “Do I know you, Mr. Townsend?” Jonah said as he ignored the man’s outstretched hand but took note of the fact that he wore a gold signet ring and kept his hands clean and free of calluses.

  “Well, I don’t suppose you would.” He gave up on trying to shake hands and shrugged instead. “As I said, I am new to Galveston, but do have extensive credentials elsewhere.”

  Jonah stood his ground. Either this man was selling something or he didn’t have the good sense to realize he wasn’t speaking to a man who enjoyed conversations with strangers.

  “Yes, well, perhaps I should just get to the point,” he said, his tone flustered. “I am currently in the employ of the Galveston Daily News. Perhaps you’ve read my work. Just yesterday I managed an insightful article on the reasons a fellow kicked a dog—it bit him—and on the arrest of that cotton broker fellow who swindled his boss.”

  A nosy reporter. A Pinkerton agent’s worst nightmare. Jonah continued to stare. He said nothing.

  The newspaperman tugged at his collar. “Yes, well, in that capacity I did some investigating and discovered a Pinkerton man had set foot in our fair city via this morning’s train. I must wonder if your arrival in Galveston coincides with the recent criminal mischief at this address.”

  Jonah frowned but remained silent. Susanna hadn’t written him about any incidents. He had to assume this man was fishing for information by throwing out facts that were anything but.

  Townsend’s eyes narrowed as a smile rose. “Oh, I get it. You can’t say anything about an ongoing case.” He winked. “You know, I thought of going the Pinkerton route. Didn’t work out for me. Seems like once I find something out I must share it. Makes me a good reporter but a lousy lawman.”

  “As does expounding at length on dangerous topics. Or claiming facts that are untrue.”

  Whether the reporter understood Jonah’s veiled threat was not certain. However, it was clear the man was not done talking.

  “However, I do think there’s a story here. I do hope you will agree and assist me.” Townsend paused. “I cannot offer much reward for information, but I have a personal stipend from my own accounts that I can spend at my own discretion.”

  The sound of a door opening behind him caught his attention. Jonah ignored the reporter to look over his shoulder up to the top of the second-floor steps where his sister now stood in the doorway.

  “Tell me what you know, Mr. Townsend,” he said without looking away from Susanna.

  “Actually, I was hoping you could tell me,” he said. “Oh, look, Miss Cahill. Have you reconsidered my offer?”

  Jonah turned back to
stare down at Townsend. “What offer have you made to Miss Cahill?”

  “Just to report her side of the story,” he managed, though his voice did not hold steady. “My sources say local law enforcement is keeping this quiet, but if there’s some sort of lunatic pestering these good people, then I believe it is the citizens’ right to know lest one of them becomes the next victim.”

  “Leave,” Jonah said through clenched jaw. “Now. And do not return.”

  “Well, I cannot promise that, Detective,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “You see, I’ve got a job to do, and as part of that job I really must investigate the claims I’ve heard regarding events at this home. The pirate Jean Lafitte once owned it. Did you know that?”

  Wonderful. Yet another outsider looking to capitalize on the Lafitte name.

  “Go,” Jonah said again, this time punctuating his demand by leaning just close enough to give the reporter an idea of exactly how angry he was getting.

  “Please consider contacting me, Miss Cahill,” he called to Susanna as he took two steps backward. “I have informed Officer Pearson that I will be assisting him in this matter, so speaking to me would be the same as speaking to him. Perhaps you would like to come down here and consent to an interview?”

  Behind him, Jonah heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon being cocked. Susanna apparently wanted the reporter gone as well.

  “Do as he says and go,” Susanna said. “I’ll speak to Officer Pearson myself should I have the need to do so.”

  “Mr. Townsend,” Jonah said as he barely held his temper in check. “You have been warned. Should you ignore this final request to leave, I promise you will regret it.”

  Townsend appeared ambivalent and then a moment later hurried away. Jonah turned around to see his sister aiming her shotgun at the reporter, obviously keeping him in her sights until he disappeared around the corner.

  “Welcome home, Jonah,” she called with a laugh. “Better come inside before I have to shoot someone.”

  “As long as it is him and not me, I just might look the other way.”

  “I’ve missed you,” Susanna said as she stepped back to allow Jonah inside. His sister, younger by five years, got more beautiful every time he saw her. While he had inherited his dark hair and silver eyes from the Cahills, Susanna was the image of their beautiful mother with honey-colored hair and dark blue eyes.

  Though she was easily as good as he at handling a gun, the fact that she’d been frightened by some sort of criminal activity infuriated him. “Tell me what Townsend was asking about,” he demanded as Susanna closed the door.

  “Hush,” she told him, setting the rifle aside. “Mama does not need to hear about this.”

  “But I do,” he said softly. “What happened?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing of any consequence. My guess is fools looking for pirate treasure again. There were a few holes in the ground.”

  Jonah knew his sister well enough to know she hadn’t told him the entire truth. “There is more,” he said. “What else has happened? I seriously doubt a reporter would be worried about holes dug on the property.”

  “Of course that one would,” Susanna quickly responded. “Just yesterday he managed twelve paragraphs on a dog bite. Twelve,” she repeated.

  “So he mentioned, and yet I still don’t believe you.” Jonah studied her. “What else has happened, Susanna?”

  “Is that my son I hear?” his mother called from somewhere in the interior of the house.

  “Do not say a word to her, Jonah,” Susanna whispered. “She does not need to worry about this.”

  Jonah gave her a doubtful look. “Once I have heard the entire story, I will decide what, if anything, I will tell her.”

  “I’m afraid so, Mama,” Susanna said. “I pulled the rifle out, but Jonah got past me.”

  “Oh, you two.” His mother hurried into the room to envelop him in an embrace. “I have missed you so, Jonah. Come now, Cook is making your favorite meal. I know you must be starved.”

  “It can’t be fried chicken, can it?” he said, although he knew good and well that was exactly what would be on the menu. It always was when he came home to Galveston.

  “All right now,” she said as she released Jonah to hold him at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. Oh, my son, you have not been eating well up in Chicago. I can see it. Come and let’s eat.”

  Funny how her words echoed the ones Bess said to him on his visit to New Orleans. Much as he knew he was a blessed man, apparently the Lord had also seen fit to give him women in his life whose sole purpose was to feed him.

  “Happily,” he told her as he offered Susanna a smile.

  Jonah followed the Cahill women into the dining room where a meal—more like a banquet for visiting royalty—awaited. Before he could protest, his plate was filled to overflowing and his family had joined him to enjoy the meal.

  “I was in New Orleans on business recently,” he said when the conversation lulled. “I stopped by Grandfather Cahill’s house.”

  Mama set her fork down. “Has he finally succumbed?”

  “To what, Mama?” Susanna asked. “Have you managed to get a response from all of those letters you sent him?”

  “Whatever it was that the Lord decided to take him with,” she said, eyes glistening. “And no, he never did respond to any of them. Not even when I wrote of your father’s passing. He was a hard man to love but I did love him, as did your father.”

  “To answer your question, yes he has passed on, but not so long ago. Earlier in the spring,” Jonah said gently. “Yellow fever was the cause according to Madeline.”

  “I see.” She lifted the linen napkin to her eyes. “I do hope he took care of Bess. She was always loyal to him.”

  “She said he did,” Jonah told her. “And she is doing well.”

  “Well, good.” Mama rose. “Would you excuse me just a moment? I believe I have something in my eye. I will be right back.”

  “Goodness knows that old man was not kind to her,” Susanna said. “But she never gave up on him.”

  “It is a lesson we all should learn.” With Mama gone, Jonah seized the moment. “All right, tell me, Susanna. What else has happened?”

  She looked over in the direction that Mama had disappeared and then returned her attention to Jonah. “The cellar shows signs of an intruder. We don’t know if this happened just once or whether several attempts have been made.”

  “We?” he managed as he absorbed the news.

  “Yes, while I refuse to frighten Mama, I did feel it was prudent to alert Officer Pearson. He investigated and has also been quite kind to patrol the area regularly ever since.”

  Jonah knew the man to whom she referred, and he was a good lawman, trustworthy and capable. Still, when it came to his mother and sister, there was no one who would care for their safety as well as he would.

  He made a note to talk to Pearson tomorrow.

  “And what was his suggestion to you? Does he think this was an isolated incident?”

  She shrugged. “He suggested we change the locks and fortify the door and then offered to help. I agreed to allow it but made him promise he will come for dinner in payment.”

  Jonah nodded. “Pearson is a good man. I’m grateful he was able to help. I will have to thank him personally.” He paused. “Believing we lived on top of buried treasure was good fun when we were children, but no one here really believes there’s anything left of it. Why would Lafitte burn his home if he left treasure in the cellars? Does Pearson believe this rubbish?”

  “No.”

  “But Townsend is curious. Has he been asking questions that have made interest in this topic rise again?”

  “It’s possible,” she said. “I know he has been asking questions of me, so I assume he’s asking elsewhere too. With him, it is hard to tell what he knows and what he is merely guessing at.”

  “Whether Townsend is involved or not, I am concerned,” he said softly as he heard his mother’s foots
teps indicating her imminent return. “I will get to the bottom of this.”

  “And that is what makes you such a good Pinkerton detective.” Susanna put on a smile as her mother entered the dining room.

  “What is this I hear about your brother and the Pinkertons?” Mama regarded Jonah with a curious expression. “Have you finally come to your senses and left the Pinkertons? Is that why you have decided to return home to Galveston?”

  Jonah chuckled. At some point during each visit, his mother would make an attempt to keep her only son within reach. Generally she would rail against the risks of the job, the excessive travel, and the fact that he had to associate with undesirables. Sometimes she flat-out told him she missed him. At least she’d broached the topic early in his visit this time instead of making him wait.

  “With your permission, I will be staying here while I see to a matter I’ve been called in to investigate,” he said. “I expect to be here a few weeks, perhaps less but not likely more. So no, I have neither come to my senses nor left the Pinkertons.”

  She shook her head. “Well, I had my hopes, but of course I do understand. You were meant for this life you have, son, and only the Lord can change you.”

  Jonah shook his head. “So you have given up praying for a change of career for me?”

  “Not at all,” she said, her blue eyes twinkling. “I have merely given up waiting for the Lord to act and begun expecting it.”

  “Then let us pray the Lord hurries,” Susanna quipped as they all laughed.

  Later, however, after the dishes had been cleared and Mama had gone out to the market to purchase yet more food for the next meal, Jonah asked Susanna to show him exactly where the holes had been dug.

  There were four, one in each corner of the back part of the property. “None of these are deep. My guess is the fools were either interrupted or decided there was no treasure to be had here.”

  “Either is possible,” Susanna said.

  “Now show me how you discovered the criminals had been inside the cellars.”

  Susanna led him to the back of the house where the cellar door bore deep gouges and one hinge appeared to be ruined. Stepping inside the murky darkness of the cellar, Jonah reached for the oil lamp hanging on the post by the door and lit it.