All Roads Lead Home

by Christine Johnson

  “I can see that,” Mariah said as she doled out the fee. “Hendrick, could you take the bags to our rooms and get Anna situated? I need to go to the telegraph office.”

  Gillard stuck out his arm. “Then I will escort you, Miss Mariah.”

  She saw Hendrick tense. When would those two understand they weren’t in competition? “Thank you, but I prefer to walk.”

  She shut the clasp on her handbag and handed the room keys to Hendrick. After a backward glance at Gillard, he reluctantly escorted his sister upstairs.

  “Shall we?” Gillard motioned her toward the front door.

  “I told you I wanted to walk. Alone.” Could she never shake the man?

  He opened the door and held it for her.

  She heaved a deliberate sigh and stepped onto the front porch. “Thank you, Mr. Gillard,” she said in dismissal.

  He paused beside her, not taking the hint. “Sure I can’t change your…?” His voice trailed off as something caught his attention.

  She followed his line of sight and saw a black Willys sedan parked at the filling station. Talltree was bent over, speaking to the driver.

  “Someone you know?” she asked softly.

  Gillard’s jaw muscles worked. “Judge Weiss.”

  A judge. Mariah shivered. A judge could demand that she turn Luke over immediately. One look at the botched agency paperwork and the birth certificate, and her case was over.

  Talltree returned to the station, and the judge’s car started forward.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to walk you to the telegraph office,” Gillard said, heading for his car. “I have some unexpected business.”

  Mariah didn’t point out that she didn’t want his escort. “What sort of business?” It was an impudent question, but she needed to know if he was pursuing legal action.

  “Nothing that concerns you.” Without saying goodbye or even tipping his hat, he hopped into his car.

  He looked agitated. And focused. He’d honed in on something of vital importance and would let nothing stand in his way. Her niggling worry blossomed into outright fear. He wanted Luke. He’d get him—one way or another.

  She pressed a hand to her queasy stomach as spots danced before her eyes. What could she do?

  Gillard trailed the judge’s car through town. They both stopped in front of a small, nondescript building two blocks away and then vanished inside.

  In her experience, whenever men said their business didn’t concern her, it did. There was only one reason Gillard would need to see a judge that instant. He was going to press the law to get Luke. All they had to do was call New York, and Mr. Isaacs would insist that Gabe bring Luke here, even if Hendrick properly conveyed her message. Within minutes, the wheels would be set in motion. She could do only one thing to lessen the pain.

  “Mariah?” Hendrick stepped onto the porch beside her. “What’s wrong? You look pale.” He tried to guide her to the bench, but she shook him off.

  She had to place a long-distance telephone call, but not at the hotel with a lobby full of tourists and Mrs. Pollard listening to every word. “I have to go to the telegraph office.”

  “Now? It’s almost five o’clock.”

  “Then I’ll have to hurry.” She dashed off the porch and into the dusty street.

  Hendrick followed. “At least let me drive you. You’ll get there faster.”

  “I don’t have time.” She pushed him away, but he grabbed her elbow and pulled her to a halt.

  “We’re right here, at your car.” Hendrick gestured to the passenger door, not five feet away.

  Maybe he was right. She gnawed her lip. The car would be faster. She let him help her into the passenger seat. “Hurry.”

  He then raced around to the driver’s side and in seconds had the car rolling down the street. She tried to breathe, but the weight pressing on her chest wouldn’t let her take more than little gasps.

  “What happened?” he asked again, his expression grim. “What did Gillard say to you?”

  She shook her head even as a little sob escaped. Reality was beginning to set in. Gabe and Felicity would lose Luke. They’d be devastated. The shock might send Felicity into premature labor. She could lose the baby—or worse.

  “It’s all over,” she sobbed in shuddering breaths. “I’ve lost him.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Secretly, Hendrick was glad Mariah had lost Gillard. The man didn’t deserve her. But he had no idea she would take it so hard, nor did he understand what that loss had to do with the urgent need to send a telegram.

  Though he offered to go into the office with her, she insisted he wait outside. The car was too hot, so he strolled in front of the building, but the sun reflected off the windows, and he couldn’t see inside. A good ten minutes later she exited, looking worn and defeated.

  He hurried to open the passenger door while reassuring her. “It will be all right.”

  Not only didn’t she answer, but she took her seat without begging to drive. He closed her door while she sat, clutching her handbag and absently opening and closing the clasp. Click. Snap. Click. Snap. Something was really wrong. He got into the driver’s seat and reached across to still her hand.

  “I’m here for you,” he said.

  She looked away. “I want to go back to the hotel.”

  He drove her there and walked with her upstairs. Anna, who’d waited in the lobby, followed. Mariah didn’t say a word to her, either. She entered their room and closed the door in Anna’s face.

  Anna stared at the grimy wooden door that must once have been painted white. “Oh, no.” She looked like she’d lost her best friend. Maybe she had.

  Hendrick drew her across the hall to his room. “What happened to make Mariah so upset?” he asked. “Did Gillard hurt her?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then what happened? What did he do?”

  “He didn’t do anything.” Anna sat gingerly on the end of the bed, and the springs squeaked. “I’m afraid it’s my fault.”

  “Yours?” That didn’t make any sense. Mariah had said she lost him. “I don’t think so. She’s worried that she lost Gillard.”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “She’s not interested in him.”

  “She’s not?”

  “But he’s sure trying hard to interest her.”

  Hendrick was only too aware of that. The man’s excessive flattery and attention made him sick. “That doesn’t explain why she’s upset. You said you think it’s your fault. Why?”

  Anna colored. “I might have said something I shouldn’t have.”

  “Like what?”

  She squirmed on the bed. “I might have mentioned Pastor Gabriel.”

  Hendrick blinked, trying to piece together why that would upset Mariah. “Did you say he’s taking care of Luke?”

  “No.” Anna bowed her head. “But Mr. Gillard figured it out.”

  “Oh, Anna.” He squeezed his eyes shut. No wonder Mariah was upset. She must have cabled her brother or the agency. She’d asked if he’d called Mr. Isaacs. He ran his fingers through his hair. She hadn’t lost Gillard; she’d lost Luke. Trouble was, he had no idea how to help her.

  “What’re we going to do?” Anna looked stricken.

  He sat heavily beside her. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”

  “If Luke comes here, she might stay.”

  Anna’s words sent a dagger through Hendrick’s heart. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Gillard was throwing himself at her. With Luke’s happiness at stake, she might just capitulate. She had said she would only marry a widower.

  “You have to romance her,” Anna said.

  Hendrick felt the heat creep up his neck. “This isn’t a dime-store novel. This is real life. I need to solve the problem, not worry about romance. This is serious, Anna.”

  “Serious-schmerious. A woman doesn’t want serious. She wants romance. If you want to stop her from marrying Mr. Gillard, you’re going to have to
let her know you’re the better catch, and that means romancing her.”

  Romance her? Aside from the fact that Mariah had made it perfectly clear they could only be friends, romance was as foreign to him as a hundred-dollar bill. He supposed it meant flowers and jewelry and fancy words, none of which he could provide. He couldn’t compete with Gillard in the romance department, and he sure didn’t measure up when it came to money. He didn’t have a nice house. He didn’t have any house at all. The woman he married would have to move in with his mother and Anna. No woman of Mariah’s social standing would settle for that kind of life. Romance her?

  It was hopeless, but he had to try.

  The telephone call had gone poorly. First, Felicity had answered, and Mariah had to say vaguely that she hadn’t finished her business yet. That seemed to satisfy Felicity, and she spent precious minutes chattering about how the baby would be coming soon.

  Finally, Gabe dislodged her from the receiver, though Mariah could tell by his clipped responses that Felicity hovered nearby. Mariah had spelled out her failures without naming Luke, in case Felicity could overhear her words. Gabe said he was sorry and asked if there was anything he could do. Did she need him to come west? Bless him for offering, but that was the last thing she wanted. He belonged with his family—especially since that family might be losing a member soon. She did mention her fears that the courts might get involved. He’d sighed and said that could keep her in Brunley for a long time. She had to figure on that.

  Between fitful bouts of sleep, she recalled every word spoken over the past couple days, looking for one glint of hope, one fragment that would justify keeping Luke in Pearlman.

  By morning she’d found just one: Mr. Sowich’s warning. He must know something about Frank Gillard. Something incriminating?

  “I’m going to the school this morning,” she told Anna as she packed a lunch of crackers and tinned beef.

  The girl wiped the sleep from her eyes. “I thought we were touring the park with Mr. Gillard.”

  “Maybe another day. I’ll leave a note for him at the registration desk.”

  “Then I’m going with you. I promised I’d help in the classroom.”

  Mariah had forgotten Anna’s promise in the hubbub of the past couple days. She’d hoped to walk alone to the school to gather her thoughts, but she couldn’t keep the girl from joining her.

  After Anna dressed, splashed water on her face and combed her hair, they set out.

  “We aren’t taking the car?” Anna asked as Mariah walked past the Overland.

  At this hour, she hoped to avoid Hendrick, who hadn’t yet appeared in the hotel’s dining room or lobby. Starting up her automobile would bring him running.

  “It’s only a mile, and the exercise will do us good.” At least it would do her good. She needed to draw the fresh morning air into her lungs. She needed to feel the solid earth beneath her feet. She needed the ache of muscles to go with the ache of her heart.

  “But it will be hot by the time we walk back,” Anna complained.

  The awkward, shy little Anna that Mariah had known two years ago had not only acquired a mind of her own, she’d gotten a touch spoiled. Mariah could understand that. Mothers poured their love into only daughters. Mariah had been just as spoiled when she was young…until the surgery that had altered her future. Life’s course could turn in an instant. It did for her. It had for Luke.

  They trudged on in silence. Songbirds chirped in the low trees, rising in a cloud when she and Anna got too close. Little poufs of dust rose with every step. The sun angled across their path, setting the grasses afire with dewy diamonds.

  The school was busy when they arrived. Children performed their chores under the supervision of the adults. Mr. Sowich hurried out to assure them that classes would begin at eight o’clock.

  “I wonder if you could spare a moment to further explain your unique curriculum.” Mariah needed to speak with him alone, and an educator liked nothing better than to talk about his work.

  Anna yawned. “Where do you want me to help?”

  “Miss Meade could use assistance with the youngest girls,” Sowich said.

  “Is that Constance’s class?” Anna asked brightly. “My brother talks about coming to see her all the time.”

  Sowich frowned. “Tell your brother not to visit. Successful integration of the Indian into American society requires strict adherence to our principles. A visit would undo all our work.”

  Judging by Anna’s scrunched forehead, she neither understood Sowich nor believed him. Mariah stifled a sigh. Mr. Sowich was helping these children to be successful later in life. It might be painful now, but in the long term, they would thank him for their education.

  “I believe that’s Miss Meade.” Mariah pointed out the teacher, who coincidentally led little Constance by the hand. The tiny girl still looked pale and frightened, and for a second Mariah thought how Luke must have felt being left at the orphanage and then taken to a strange town. Maybe returning him to his father was the right thing to do, after all. She shook herself. Constance’s case was nothing like Luke’s. Luke could not be happier than he was right now. Dislodging him would only bring pain.

  Anna called out to Constance, who turned her solemn dark eyes in their direction. Though she was twenty feet away, Mariah caught a glimmer of hope in the girl’s eyes before Miss Meade pulled her toward the porch. Anna caught up to them in seconds and chattered away to the little girl, who stuck a dirty hand into her mouth.

  Still homesick. Poor thing. Every instinct told her to take the girl home. Only intellect could overcome maternal emotion. That’s what she’d have to summon for Luke.

  “How long does it take them to get over their homesickness?” she asked Mr. Sowich.

  He shrugged. “It’s different for every child.”

  “Constance just got here, then?”

  Sowich’s expression grew more guarded. “Some months.”

  “Poor thing, and she’s still homesick. When is their next holiday?”

  “Holiday?” He stared at her blankly.

  “When they go home for a visit.”

  His mouth twitched. “This is not a traditional boarding school, Miss Meeks. The children live here, like in your orphanages, until they graduate.”

  A wave of dismay washed through her. “But they’re not orphans. And even in the case of orphans, we strive to place our children with foster families as quickly as possible.”

  Sowich extended an arm, waving her toward his office. “This is an Indian school, Miss Meeks. Our mission is quite different from any other institution.”

  They mounted the stairs and entered the school building, oppressively hot even at this hour. Sowich guided her through the entry hall and into his office. “Beson Creek School was built in 1884, after the starvation winter. The government knew we had to do something to help the Indians learn a new way of life.” He launched into the same soliloquy he’d told her the other day, but this time she observed things she hadn’t noticed before.

  The paint was cracked and peeling off the interior walls. The floors could use a good sweeping. The stink of the latrines permeated the thick air. The windows were open but didn’t have screens, so flies buzzed inside unhindered. She hadn’t spied any fans to help move the air, and the children wore dark-colored cotton uniforms that had to make them hot in the summer and cold in the winter. So much more could be done for these children.

  “Why haven’t any modern conveniences been brought in?” she asked when he finished the history of the school.

  Sowich leaned back in his chair, his desktop polished to a high gloss. “Insufficient funding, plain and simple. The school doesn’t get much notice in Congress, not when business ventures catch their eye,” he said with evident distaste.

  “Business ventures?”

  “Such as the five-year plan, proposed by reservation superintendent, Frank Campbell, to introduce industrialized agriculture. Or the previous idea to provide each family with cattl
e. All failures. The latest fad is oil leases.”

  Mariah sat up a little straighter. “What about oil leases? Mr. Gillard says they will lead to prosperity.”

  At the mention of Gillard’s name, Sowich fidgeted with his fountain pen. “Yes, well, he’s correct, in a manner of speaking.”

  “What exactly do you mean, Mr. Sowich?”

  “Not a thing. Not a thing.”

  He apparently didn’t want to talk about Gillard, but she had to find something incriminating about him today. She decided to get straight to the point. “You warned me about Mr. Gillard the day we met. Why?”

  He wiped the perspiration from his round face with a handkerchief. “You said you came on personal business. I wondered if perhaps you might be—um, how shall I put this—participating in a business venture.”

  “Business venture? What sort of business venture?”

  Sowich breathed out. “That’s a relief. I can tell by your response that you’re not involved with him.”

  Involved? Mariah lifted her eyebrows. “Why are you relieved? He seems quite nice.”

  Sowich paused, as if contemplating what he should tell her. “He does know how to charm the ladies.”

  Mariah thought of the lingerie in the bedroom. “What ladies, Mr. Sowich?”

  Sowich smiled thinly. “There are always women for men with money.”

  She could barely spit the word out. “A brothel?”

  “I didn’t say that. Not at all.” He held up his hands.

  Frustration set in. Sowich would tell her nothing useful, and if she returned to search the house, all evidence would be gone. Like the wine, Gillard would have disposed of anything incriminating.

  “Don’t look so disappointed, Miss Meeks.”

  Mariah forced a smile. “You mistake my expression. I was horrified to think such a thing could exist and pleased to learn it doesn’t.” But she needed some proof of wrongdoing. “Then if I understand you correctly, you were warning me that Mr. Gillard is not to be trusted in business matters.”