Bandit's Hope

by Marcia Gruver

  Uncle Joe strolled up and ground his heel into Hade’s hand until he howled and turned loose of the gun. Justin and Christopher scrambled off Hade’s winded body, standing over him with clenched fists.

  Feeling sick, Tiller knelt over Nathan’s prone body. He called his name and heard an anguished echo from behind him in a stranger’s voice. Shading his eyes against the sun, he glanced up.

  The man gazing down at Nathan, his face white with concern, stirred distant memories of mud and misty swamps. "Who—"

  The familiar stranger went down on one knee and touched Nathan’s back. "Is he alive?"

  Tiller stared, afraid to blink. "Wyatt Carter? It can’t be."

  Nathan groaned, and Tobias Jones pushed close to see to his wound.

  Standing on shaky legs, Tiller gaped in disbelief as Nathan’s long-lost brother hovered by his side. "Where … where’d you come from?"

  Against the shouting voices circling Hade and Sonny, a woman’s quiet sobs reached Tiller’s ears. Heart pounding, he spun. "Mariah?"

  A tall man with pitch-colored hair held a slight figure against his chest, her long hair the color of a redbird. Clenched fist pressed to her mouth, she wept as one who mourned.

  Dazed, Tiller tilted his chin while scenes from another life rushed through his head.

  The two moved toward him, enveloped him, and he knew for sure. "Hooper?" Tears blurred his vision. He blinked to see them better. "Ellie, it’s really you?"

  Wailing, she wrapped both arms around him and clung with all her might.

  Hooper, one hand resting on Ellie’s neck, the other gripping Tiller’s, gazed at him with streaming eyes. "Thank God we finally found you."

  "You’ve been looking for me?" He didn’t realize he was crying, too, until he heard his wavering voice.

  Hooper nodded. "For most of the last ten years."

  Tiller wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "But why?" he whispered.

  Ellie lifted her head and smiled sweetly. "Why do you think, silly boy? We’re your family, and we’ve come to take you home."

  FORTY-FOUR

  Mariah yanked the pins from her hair, kicked off her shoes, and rolled off her stockings. She longed to climb on Sheki’s bare back, bury her fingers in his mane, and soar along the river until the rushing wind eased her fears.

  She settled for a barefoot run through the cool grass in the backyard then over the weedy verge to the distant riverbank. Padding across the warm bank, she relished the swishing sand between her toes. Gathering her skirt, she lowered herself to the ground and swung her legs into the cold water.

  The loose soil swirled, disturbed by her toes, and silvery minnows shot in every direction. Mariah held very still. Soon the water cleared and the curious minnows returned to peck at her skin for a taste.

  The Pearl had always been a refuge from the shunning she endured from both sides of her bloodline. As a child, she spent hours exploring along the banks, listening to the mockingbird’s song, and watching eagles soar overhead.

  Today her haven withheld its comfort. The water felt too cold on her feet, the sun too hot on her head. The water lapping the hem of her chemise wicked clammy moisture to her skin. Leaning back on her arms, she closed her eyes and let the promise of the Lord’s enduring love still the pounding of her heart.

  Mother’s influence had endowed her with a strong spirit. How else could a girl of her tender age endure what she had? Yet through those trials, she’d learned the depths of her weakness and her desperate need for God.

  "Great Father, bring my love safely home."

  The words were barely past her lips when a distant, tinny voice called her name.

  Mariah’s head jerked up. Shading her eyes from the water’s glare, she squinted down the meandering ribbon of water. The shimmering outline of approaching riders quickened her pulse. A waving hat and a thatch of orange hair brought her to her feet in a stumbling run.

  Tiller spurred Sheki to a gallop and raced to meet her. They reached her fast, and Tiller leaped from the saddle before Sheki came to a full stop.

  His arms and shoulders cloaked her, his fingers tangled in her hair. He held her so near she felt a part of him, his racing heartbeat pounding in her ears. Pulling her head back, he kissed her, smoothing damp strands of hair from her face with gentle hands.

  Lifting his head, he breathed a shaky laugh. "Does this mean you don’t despise me?"

  Too overcome to speak, she nodded helplessly.

  He frowned and shook his head. "You’re letting me off too easy. I lied to you. To all of you."

  "You didn’t lie. You withheld the truth. I’m guilty of the same."

  He furrowed his brow but continued. "It’s my fault Otis got hurt."

  She lowered her lashes. "I hurt Miss Vee."

  "I hid things from you about my past."

  "I hid worse things from you."

  Tiller held her at arm’s length. "Why does my apology sound like yours instead? Maybe you’d better tell me what’s going on."

  Clinging to his hands for courage, Mariah confessed the ugly story of Mother’s deathbed promise. She didn’t spare herself any sordid detail, from rolling her poor father’s body into an unmarked grave, to tricking simpleminded Gabe, to deeming Tiller an unfit prospect to marry.

  She ended with how she’d deliberately deceived poor Miss Vee, robbing her of grieving for her lost love.

  Listening quietly, Tiller didn’t interrupt, though he blinked a few times in disbelief. Before he could respond, Uncle Joe rode up with his family. Tiller stepped away from her and beamed up at Hooper, Wyatt, and Ellie.

  These people, strangers before now, held the power to put such joy on Tiller’s face? To bring a peace and rest of soul she’d never seen in his eyes before?

  Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a surge of jealousy. What would Tiller choose? Would he stay with her at the inn or return with them to North Carolina? Might he possibly ask her to go with him, and could she make the heartrending choice?

  Hooper shoved back his hat. "When you’re done here, we need to wash up and meet around the table. We still have a lot to talk about."

  Tiller placed his arm around Mariah’s shoulders. "We’ll be up in a minute." He raised his face to Uncle Joe. "If that’s all right with you, sir."

  Uncle Joe smiled and nodded, and the four of them rode toward the barn.

  Turning Mariah to face him, Tiller’s lively green eyes darted over her face. "Everything we’ve done will right itself with God’s help and time to heal, on one condition."

  She drew back. "And that is?"

  "If you agree to marry me because you love me, not just to save the inn."

  This time Mariah grinned. "You doubt my feelings after that kiss?"

  Tiller chuckled and pulled her close. "Maybe we’d best have seconds and find out for sure." Before their lips met, he released her and plunged his hand in his pocket. "First, I have something for you."

  He came up with the cloth bag that held her coins and dropped it into her hand. "I never meant to leave you, Mariah. Going with Hade was the only way to get this back."

  Mariah touched his cheek. "I had assurance of that truth from a couple of witnesses."

  He frowned his confusion, and she laughed. "Otis for one. My heart for another."

  Recalling Hade Betts’s lifeless eyes, she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. "What happened out there, Tiller? Won’t those men come riding back for you?" She shook the coins. "For this?"

  "Not for triple the amount." His eyes glowed with mischief. "In fact, they’ll cross the street when they see me coming."

  She gasped and covered her mouth. "No they didn’t!"

  He chuckled. "I’ve never seen two men so scared."

  Her brow rose. "Two men?"

  The teasing left his voice. "Nathan Carter’s hurt. We brought him as far as Tobias’s house. They’re treating him there."

  She touched his face. "Your family explained about Nathan. Is he hurt badly?"

/>   Tiller caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. "We don’t know yet." Pain shone from his eyes. "Nathan jumped between me and Hade, Mariah. He got hurt trying to save me. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t make it."

  Holding hands, they led Sheki to the barn. While Tiller saw to the horse’s food and water, Mariah brushed his coat to a glossy sheen with loving hands, stopping often to smooth his neck and nuzzle his silky face.

  "Mariah?"

  She glanced at Tiller over Sheki’s back. "Yes?"

  "I know you could tend this old feedbag all night, but I’m so hungry his oats are starting to look tasty."

  "All right," she said, focused on Sheki’s grooming. "Just one more minute."

  Tiller ducked beneath the horse’s neck and caught her hand. "If I prance and whinny and let you throw a saddle on my back, will you come inside and feed me?"

  Laughing, Mariah hung up the brush and traced the faint sprinkling of freckles across his nose. "Granted, you bear the markings of a fine Indian pony, and you do share Sheki’s love for food." She patted his cheek. "We’ll forgo the prance and whinny and do without the saddle, but you may carry me if you’d like."

  With a growl, he swept her off her feet and whirled her out of the barn. Staring into her eyes, he carried her to the house.

  Stopping by the pump to wash up first, they hurried onto the porch. At the threshold, she paused to search his face. There were still many questions, and she’d put them off for as long as she could. Mariah sensed the answers, good or bad, waited beyond her kitchen door.

  Tiller turned the knob and led her inside.

  The back door opened to the sound of laughter and the smells of home. Never so glad to be in a place in his life, Tiller hung up his hat and ambled into the dining room.

  His usual place next to Joe sat empty, as if in welcome. He swung into the chair and smiled at Hooper, Ellie, and Wyatt, shaking his head at the miracle of breaking bread with family.

  Mariah and Dicey bustled in to ladle stew. Parading in and out from the kitchen, they passed bowls filled with seasoned green beans, buttered squash, sliced tomatoes, onions, and bread, the bounty from their shopping trip to Canton.

  The sights and smells of a meal from Mariah’s kitchen tempted a man like few things could. His stomach moaning in protest, Tiller laid aside his napkin and pushed away from the table. "I hope you’ll all excuse me; I can’t eat a bite until I have a talk with Otis."

  "Looking for me, boy?"

  Blood surged to Tiller’s head as Otis rounded the corner, his dancing eyes searching the room. They landed on Tiller, and he beamed his toothless grin.

  Standing, Tiller took a hesitant step, but the joy on the old man’s face lured him forward.

  Otis reached out first, wrapping him around the waist in a warm embrace.

  Staring down at his wiry, white head, Tiller’s chest swelled with unshed tears. "You should despise me."

  Otis grunted. "Pshaw! How could I despise my best friend?"

  Tiller pushed him to arm’s length. "You have every right to turn me in to the law, and I’ll understand if you do. Either way, I promise to repay every cent they stole if it takes me the rest of my life."

  Otis shook his head. "I don’t expect it."

  Tiller gripped his shoulders. "Consider it done, sir. Can you ever forgive me?"

  "I forgave before you asked." Otis winked and offered his hand. "It might’ve been a sight harder if I hadn’t got to know you for the fine lad you are. I thank the Lord I got the chance."

  Soaring with the freedom born of pardon, Tiller clasped both hands around Otis’s hands and shook so hard he nearly pulled him off his feet. Grinning, Otis pulled free and nudged him aside. "You won’t find me so forgiving if you didn’t save me a bowl of Dicey’s fine stew."

  Smiling, Mariah slipped off her apron and took her seat across from Tiller. Otis slid into the chair next to her. Her face red and swollen, Miss Vee slipped quietly into the room, patting Tiller’s back before taking her place. His heart went out to her, and he reached across to squeeze her hand.

  The meal seemed the best he’d ever tasted. The lively conversation and the presence of people he loved etched a notch in Tiller’s soul that promised to rival his memories of Scuffletown.

  Shoving in his last forkful of blackberry cobbler, Hooper pushed aside his plate and cleared his throat. "Tiller, can we go somewhere and talk?"

  God’s peace settled around Tiller with the warmth of a quilt. "Whatever you came to say, go on and say it."

  Hooper glanced around. "Are you sure? It’s of a personal nature."

  Gazing at each familiar face, Tiller nodded. "These folks are my family, too. I don’t mind them hearing."

  Hooper leaned forward. "I’m afraid the first part of our news is bad." His eyes darkened. "It’s about your mama, son."

  Ellie reached across to take his hand. "Aunt Effie died, Tiller."

  Mariah gasped and came around the table to stand behind him, her soothing fingers on his neck.

  The words touched his heart but didn’t penetrate. He tried to feel sadness but couldn’t feel much of anything but regret. "When?" The single word was all he could muster.

  "Weeks ago," Hooper said. "I saw to her burial myself."

  So they hadn’t come to pack him off to a funeral. "What happened?"

  "She had an illness." Hooper seemed to squirm in his chair. "A stomach problem worsened by her … inability to eat."

  Tiller cringed, the stew a surge of bile in his throat. His mother slowly died of hunger while he ate his fill of good food, most of it bought by stolen money. He understood for the first time the depths to which he’d fallen. "I failed her." Defeat washed over him and he closed his eyes. "I left her to die."

  "No." Ellie tightened her grip. "You surely didn’t." Her strident voice softened. "She failed you."

  His gaze shifted to her. "Ellie, don’t."

  "Let her talk," Hooper said. "What she said is true. Don’t you remember? Your ma sent you away."

  Tiller leaned back in his chair. "What choice did she have? I was shiftless and troublesome. Couldn’t earn enough for my keep. It was either send me to Uncle Silas or watch me starve, too."

  Hooper wasn’t listening, just watching and shaking his head. "Your memory is skewed. You worked hard tending other folk’s lawns and brought home every cent." His face red, he slapped the table. "You were a skinny, starving child who could never do enough to avoid her strap."

  "What is this?" Tiller hated that his voice cracked. Wishing he’d agreed to talk in private, he gaped at them. "Did you come all this way to speak ill of my ma?"

  Releasing his breath on a sigh, Hooper folded his hands in front of him. "I’m sorry. I just can’t bear to hear you blame yourself."

  Determination surged in Ellie’s gaze. "There are things you still don’t know."

  Tiller pulled away from her. "Then tell me, blast it. That’s what you came for, isn’t it?"

  Sympathy oozed from the circle around him. Wyatt patted his back, tears wet Mariah’s cheek when she leaned to embrace him, and Miss Vee clutched a napkin to her trembling mouth.

  "All right, I’ll tell you." Hooper sighed. "But there’s no easy way to say it." As if an idea just came to him, he pointed at Otis. "Let’s start with him."

  Fear nudging his heart, Tiller’s gaze flickered to Otis sitting across the table, wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeve. "What’s this got to do with him?"

  Hooper patted Otis’s shoulder. "I heard you swear to honor a debt to this man."

  "That’s right, but—"

  "We’re here to say you won’t have a problem keeping your promise."

  Desperate to understand, Tiller blinked from Hooper to Ellie. Her eyes danced and a smile tugged the corners of her mouth. "You have money, Tiller. That’s the good news we came to tell you."

  Hooper nodded. "Your ma hoarded every cent she ever got her hands on. She lived poor but died rich. Aunt Effie left you a fortune."


  Uncle Joe leaned forward and cleared his throat. "How much?"

  "Plenty," Hooper said, glancing at him. "Thousands of dollars deposited in a Fayetteville bank in the name of Tiller McRae."

  FORTY-FIVE

  Asolemn procession worked its way down the Natchez Trace to the southwest corner of Mariah’s land, the family burial grounds. Her mind flooded with memories of the night she rode the back way along the Pearl with Father’s poor ravaged body. Far better to be in the company of loved ones, with the bright sun in her face, than picking her way alone and afraid by moonlight.

  Sheki pulled the rig up the bluff overlooking the bend of the river. Uncle Joe hauled back on the reins and parked near the broad oak next to Mother’s grave.

  Mariah reached for Miss Vee’s hand. "Are you ready?"

  Dressed in mourning clothes, she pressed a black hankie to her lips and nodded.

  Tiller climbed down and offered them a hand, then joined Uncle Joe at the tailgate to help shoulder the weight of Father’s headstone.

  John Coffee Bell, Husband of Onnat Minti Bell, Loving Father of Mariah.

  His name engraved in the cold stone settled the fact in Mariah’s heart more surely than carrying his lifeless body. Father was gone. She wouldn’t see him again this side of heaven.

  Clinging to Miss Vee and Dicey, Mariah led them to the unmarked patch of ground, his final resting place. Pulling off their hats, Tiller’s Scuffletown family and a few of Father’s close friends gathered around them. Rainy, along with his father and little brother, held to the back of the crowd. Tobias, his sons, and the rest of the Pearl River clan stood in hushed silence.

  Mariah drew strength from their quiet presence, and a load lifted from her shoulders. At last, those who loved her father could honor him in death, as he deserved.

  Pulling shovels from the rig, Uncle Joe and Tiller dug a trench and set the gravestone in place.

  Miss Vee knelt and placed a handful of wildflowers next to the marker, her fingers caressing the letters of his name. "Oh, John. How I’ll miss you."

  Crying softly, Dicey patted her shoulder. "He was a fine man, that Mista’ Bell. A real fine man. I’m gon’ miss him, too." She sniffled and spun away.