Elusive Hope (4 page)

Yet, now, standing so close to James and seeing the way he glanced around ensuring no one was bothering her, all thoughts of that conundrum, along with fears of Wiley Dodd, fled like bats in the sun. And she felt safe. As she always did in the doctor’s presence.

As she had that night on the ship when he’d risked his life to pull her from the sea. The night she’d tried to end her misery once and for all. Despite her agony, despite her wish to die, she’d felt safe in his arms as he carried her, dripping wet, across the deck. He’d been bare-chested then. Why was she, now, having so much trouble keeping her eyes off him with his shirt on?
Sweet saints, Angeline. He’s a man of God!

As if possessing an uncanny ability to read her thoughts, his face reddened and he shifted his stance. A breeze tossed the tips of wheat-colored hair across his collar. “I was coming to get some water for the men working the field.” He glanced toward the open stretch of land beyond the town. “Forgive me for my slovenly attire, Miss Angeline.”

His sudden nervousness brought a smile to her lips. “No need to apologize, Doctor. None of us can keep up appearances like we used to.”

The blacksmith’s wife passed them with a nod, a basket of oranges in hand.

James swept his gaze back to Angeline and smiled. His expression grew sober. “If there is something or
someone
bothering you, I hope you know you can come to me.”

“I do.” But she wouldn’t. How could someone like her ever think to approach a preacher with her problems?

“Well, then, I must get back. Good-day to you, Miss Angeline.” He had the most genuine sounding voice she’d ever heard. As if he meant every word he said. She nodded as he skirted around her on his way to the river. And she felt the loss of him immediately.

“I expect to see you at Sunday Services,”he called over his shoulder.

Sunday services. So far she’d been able to avoid them with one excuse or another. Not that she didn’t believe in God. But simply because she was sure He no longer believed in her.

“I almost killed you, Graves!” Hayden lowered his machete while Thiago uncocked his pistol and stuffed it back into his belt. “What in the Sam Hill are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Just exploring like you.”Graves gave a sly grin that angled one half of his black mustache down to his chin. “Difference is”—he glanced at the web of greenery above them and sighed—“I found something for my trouble.”

Hayden raised his brows, his interest piqued, along with his annoyance. The mysterious Mr. Graves had kept his distance from the others throughout the entire sea voyage and now in their new town as well. He hailed himself as a politician who once ran for the senate until the war killed his plans, along with his family. And just like a politician, he refused to do any real work, preferring instead to wander the jungles in search of food and supplies. Or so he claimed. Hayden had yet to see him return with anything of value.

“Do tell, Graves, what did you find?” Hayden plucked a cloth from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his head and neck, trying to mask his irritation.

“Come and see.”Without waiting for a reply, Graves swerved about and disappeared into the shrubbery. Hayden should have ignored the cantankerous man. He should have continued with his own search, but his curiosity got the better of him and he started after him, Thiago in his wake.

Graves was easy to track. Dressed in his usual black trousers, black shirt, and waistcoat, he reminded Hayden of the dark shadow he’d just seen flitting through the greenery. Or had he seen anything at all? He thought to ask Thiago about the odd mist, but didn’t want to sound foolish. Probably just an illusion brought on by the heat and humidity, which seemed to rise with each step he took. he longed to take off his boots, but he’d seen too many snakes and insects to risk tromping around barefooted. Sweat slid down his back and covered his neck. Slicing a piece of twine from a nearby plant, he tied his hair behind him. What a sight he must be. He certainly looked nothing like the gallant gentleman he presented himself as whenever he’d been working a scam. His thoughts drifted to Mrs. Henley, the charming, beautiful Katherine Henley. How her face would light up when Hayden sauntered into a room wearing his silk-lined suit of black broadcloth and stylish top hat. He knew the first time he’d met her at the horse races in Louisville that he would soon have her swooning at his feet, willing to do anything he asked. He grinned. He’d made at least two thousand dollars off her. Not bad for only a few week’s work. But, of course, the lady’s husband was none too pleased when He discovered she’d purchased an empty, useless cave instead of a silver mine. Hayden hoped the man hadn’t been too hard on her. He shrugged off a twinge of guilt before halting and glancing up at the canopy.

Thiago bumped into him from behind. “What is it, senhor?”

“Do you hear that?”

“No.”

“Exactly. The birds have stopped chirping. And where is the incessant drone of insects?”

Thiago ran a hand through his dark hair and looked around. “You are right. They are gone.”

“Over here!” Graves’s shout lured Hayden onward, the crunch of leaves beneath their feet the only sound filtering through the trees. Despite the heat, a chill slithered down his back. He hoped he wasn’t walking into a trap. The thought caused a curse to emerge from his lips as he plunged through one final thicket and nearly bounced off a massive stone wall that was at least ten feet high.

“Holy Mary, mother of God.” Thiago crossed himself.

“What is this place?” Hayden shifted his shoulders beneath a palpable heaviness in the air.

“This way.” Graves gestured. Hayden had never seen the man so exuberant. Which made him feel even more uneasy. They followed the wall as it curved around the clearing, no doubt enclosing something within. A fort, perhaps? But out in the middle of the jungle?

“I do not like this.” Thiago moaned from behind as they came to an opening that must have been the entrance but was now merely a rotted wooden gate strangled by green vines.

“Isn’t it incredible?” Graves slapped the stones with his hand. “Looks to be quite old. Perhaps built by natives.”

Incredible?
A different word came to Hayden’s mind—disturbing. Though covered with moss and vines, the stone structure stood as a firm reminder that whoever built it had been trying to keep something out. “If natives erected this, it makes one wonder what they were afraid of.” Hayden shifted his stance and glanced from Graves to Thiago. Didn’t they feel the heaviness in the air?

“Perhaps, they feared
Lobisón,”
Thiago said as he gazed up at the wall’s height and then peered around the corners of the broken gate to examine the thickness of the wood. “Or something far worse.”

Hayden wondered what could be worse than a man that turned into a wolf but thought it wise not to ask. He already had the urge to turn and run and never come back, to trust his instincts—the ones he’d honed living on the streets. They had saved his life more than once and now they were telling him to scurry out of there as fast as he could.

Yet, what if his father had come this way, stayed here, left a clue?

Without a word, Graves slid through the opening and disappeared within.

Hayden started after him when Thiago clutched his arm. Wide eyes met his. “I do not think we should go in, senhor.”

“Stay here if you wish, but I must see what’s inside.” Turning, Hayden entered and halted beside Graves. Across a courtyard infested with weeds and vines and broken pottery, at least twenty stone obelisks rose from the ground like mummies from a mass grave. Hayden made his way to the closest one and brushed aside the vines to find an engraved collage of gnarled faces in various postures of agony. His stomach clenched. He backed away, shifting his gaze to two rectangular slabs of stone, lying prostrate upon blocks of granite. A massive fire pit rose from the center of the clearing. Scattered around it lay broken wooden idols and stained blades whose handles had long since rotted off. Beyond the clearing, a crumbling building rose from the greenery like a monster from a swamp. Columns that reminded Hayden of a plantation house held up a flat roof and formed an open air portico that faded into darkness.

“Looks to be a temple of some sort.” Graves remarked as he tromped across the courtyard, his tone one of enthusiasm.

Shaking his head, Hayden slowly moved toward one of the tables. In between the moss and vines, dark stains peered up at him from the light stone. His stomach convulsed. “If this is a temple, I don’t think it’s a Christian one.”

“No.” Thiago’s tremulous voice came from just inside the gate where he stood frozen. “These are ruins of Tupi. They were cannibals.”

Hayden’s glance returned to the fire pit, shifted to the ancient blades, then moved to the stains on the table. Bile rose in his throat. Gagging, he bent over, praying he wouldn’t vomit and embarrass himself in front of these men.

“Cannibals?” Graves’s dark eyes flashed.

Hayden took a deep breath and rose to his full height.

Pulling an amulet from his pocket, Thiago crossed himself again. “I wait outside.”

Hayden longed to go with him, but he couldn’t seem to move. Instead he stared at the ghastly scene, imagining what horrors must have occurred within its walls.

A
caw caw
drew his gaze upward to a black bird with the wingspan as wide as a man was tall. The odd sight kept Hayden riveted as the beastly bird crossed the clearing and disappeared. Something about the bird, its size, the loneliness in its cry, caused air to seize in his lungs.

Graves headed toward the temple where he plucked a torch from a holder on the wall, struck a match, and lit it. “I’m going in to explore. Join me?”

“I’ll wait here,” Hayden said. If his father had come this way, Hayden should find some evidence in the courtyard. There was no reason to subject himself to further horrors.

Graves gave him a taunting snort before he mounted the steps and entered the building with the exuberance of a child at Christmas.

As disturbing as his presence was, Graves’s absence left Hayden alone with the dark foreboding he’d felt upon entering this fiendish site. He ran his sleeve over the sweat on his brow and started his search of the area, careful not to touch anything. He’d grown so accustomed to hearing the chatter of the jungle that the absence of it spiked his nerves. Perhaps that was the reason for his discomfort. He prayed that was the
only
reason.

He circled one of the obelisks, cringing at the tormented faces carved into the stone and wondered if these were the faces of those who’d been killed by the Tupi. His chest tightened. He backed away. The crackling returned. Soft like the sound of waves, yet harsh as if a thousand fires were lit all around him. Hayden drew his machete and swerved around. No one was there.

Then she appeared. Materialized out of the torrid air like a mirage in the desert. Yet unlike a mirage, she stood before him as real and vibrant as he remembered her. Mrs. Katherine Henley, hair cascading around her head in a bouquet of golden curls. Striking emerald eyes, now swimming in tears.

Hayden rubbed his own eyes, hoping to sweep away the vision, but still she remained. He reached for her. She retreated.

“Why?” she asked. “Why did you do it?”

Hayden swallowed.
This can’t be happening
. It’s the heat. His thirst, this evil place playing tricks on his mind.

“I thought you loved me. You told me you loved me.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, glistening in the bright sun.

“You’re not here. You’re not real.” Hayden clenched his jaw.

“Is that what you think? That I don’t feel the pain you caused me?” Her sorrowful expression turned as hard as the stone obelisk they stood beside. Rosy lips drew into a cracked gray line. Her eyes turned to slate. “You think you can’t hurt people simply because, to you, they aren’t real. I know who you are, Hayden Gale. I know who you are!”

Hayden’s heart thundered in his chest. He was going to be sick. Tearing away from her, he ran up the stairs of the temple and plunged into the darkness after Graves. Thoughts dashed in his mind, racing past impossibility. Someone had to be playing a trick on him. But nobody knew about Katherine. Nobody but him.

Darkness enveloped him and with it came another kind of heaviness. It pressed on his shoulders as if the air weighed more inside the building than without. A light fluttered from a dark corner.

“Ah, you’ve gained your courage, I see.” Graves’s voice echoed over the stone walls. “Come here. I’ve found something quite interesting.”

Hayden squinted as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. The room extended so far back he couldn’t see the end. Rotting chairs, tables, and bowls littered the cold, stone floor, along with dirt and dried weeds. A collection of handmade axes and swords hung on one wall. Hayden glanced over his shoulder and scanned the courtyard but Katherine was gone. Just an illusion. Of course. Hadn’t he just been thinking of her? No doubt his guilt had gotten the better of him. He drew a deep breath of dank air that smelled of mold and agony.