Heart of Lies (13 page)

So what if he had her shotgun? Her skinning knife was tucked in her saddlebag behind her. Let him think that he had the upper
hand. As soon as he was asleep, she would be on her way.

“I’m tired.” She pulled Penelope’s cape tight against her midriff. So far he hadn’t noticed that the red wool was actually a garment, one much too small for her to wear. “Leave me alone and let me sleep.”

“My pleasure.”

The way the word lingered between them made her all too aware that they were alone in the dark. She relied on the fact that his manners at the cabin had been without fault. He was a man of honor, which was why she had to escape. He stirred too many conflicting feelings in her, made her feel less than human. Made her feel guilty as Terrance. And he was determined to take her to jail.

She scanned the perimeter of the campsite where the fire’s glow failed to illuminate the darkness. For now escape was impossible. Weighing her options, she decided to trust in what honor Abbott possessed rather than to be stupid enough to try to hide in the swamp unarmed.

Determined not to let down her guard, she was certain it would be a very simple matter to feign sleep while she planned her escape.

T
om awoke at dawn’s first light. He hadn’t intended to drop his guard, but he had dozed off more than once. Thankfully, Maddie had slept through the night. He got to his feet slowly, set the shotgun on the other side of the camp, and then rubbed the back of his neck. He was stiff and sore from a night on the ground but determined to ignore the discomfort.

Maddie slept on as he checked their horses. Hers was an old swaybacked mare which explained why Maddie hadn’t gotten any farther.

As he walked around the camp collecting firewood, he continually glanced back at Maddie. On his way back to the fire he noticed she was finally awake. She shifted on the hard ground and winced as she rubbed her backside.

He almost smiled.

“I need some privacy,” she said, shoving a wayward lock of hair away from her eyes.

He looked away to hide his embarrassment and nodded toward the deeper growth just beyond them.

“You’ve got three minutes. If you’re not fast enough, I’m coming after you.”

It was her turn to color with embarrassment but she didn’t argue. She rolled up the red wool blanket on her lap and was gone and back in no time.

She watched him walk over to his saddle, open a saddlebag, and take out some biscuits. He had two left. He offered her one. Maddie accepted and took a bite.

“This isn’t half bad,” she said.

“I expect not. You made ‘em.”

“You
stole
my biscuits? When?”

“I went back to your cabin looking for you. If you’d have been there, you’d have probably offered me some anyway. That’s how I saw it.”

“You saw wrong. I wouldn’t have offered you anything.”

He stared at her long enough to bring the high color to her cheeks before he turned away. “We’re heading to Stonewood.”

She nodded. He found her compliance far too easily won and knew she was only humoring him until she could escape. No matter, he thought. He’d be vigilant.

“It’s just up the road a piece,” she volunteered.

“We’ll stop there, ask around.”

They arrived at Stonewood Plantation a couple of hours after breaking camp. Once thriving, the former owners’ mansion was abandoned, the slave quarters out back taken over by squatters.

One look around and Tom figured that the former slaves now living on the property would be too frightened to hide a white child in their midst. He described Penelope anyway, asked if anyone had seen her, and was told no. He and Maddie were offered a midday meal, which they gratefully accepted before they rode off.

Maddie traveled beside him in stoic silence, staring down the
road ahead. If she was at all concerned about Penelope’s safety or what the child was going through, she didn’t let on.

“You sure you have no notion where Penelope is headed?”

Maddie ignored him as the mare plodded along, never faster, never slower, but at a constant, irritating pace. Finally she faced him.

“I have no idea where she is right now and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

He wasn’t surprised. Despite what Maddie had done, he couldn’t help but admire her spunk. During bouts of sleeplessness last night, he had thought about her revelation, of how she’d lost two children and a husband. If that was all true, then it might explain why she was still living with the no-account twins, why she’d agreed to become their accomplice. She had nothing to lose.

He glanced over at her, and his glance became a leisurely perusal. She was awkward on the horse but too stubborn to show her discomfort. As she kept her back ramrod straight and her hands clenched around the reins, her vulnerability tugged at his heartstrings. Her long dark hair had escaped its pins to tumble about her shoulders. The floppy hat she wore kept the dappled sun from beating down on her freckled nose.

They left the swamp behind and crossed fertile farmland, stopping at each property they passed to inquire if anyone had seen or heard of a lost child in the area. They continued north all day, passing creeks lined with dogwood and wild honeysuckle. It was a bucolic pastoral setting that would have made for an enjoyable outing had she not been a kidnapper and he a Pinkerton.

In the late afternoon they stopped at a farmhouse they’d seen from the road. As they approached the wide-covered porch of the well-tended home, he made her promise to let him do all the talking.

“Are you going to tell them I’m a kidnapper? That you’re taking me in?”

“These look like nice people. I don’t want to spook them. We
need food and we need a place to stay. Just go along with whatever I say.”

When he dismounted, she remained in the saddle. Before he reached the porch steps, the front door opened, and they were greeted by the mistress of the house, a woman in her forties with lines carved by care around her eyes and lips. Her name was Susan Cole.

He introduced himself as a Pinkerton, showed them his badge, then introduced Maddie as his sister. Two girls who appeared to be around twelve and fourteen followed their mother out onto the porch. A little boy no older than five clung to Mrs. Cole’s skirt.

The Cole woman looked out at Maddie, who lifted a hand in greeting.

Tom indicated Maddie with a nod. “We’re searching for a runaway. She took off a couple of days ago. Have you seen or heard of a lost child around here, Mrs. Cole?”

She showed immediate concern by glancing worriedly at her own girls and absently stroked her son’s sandy-red locks.

“How terrible,” she declared. “We haven’t seen or heard anything at all.” Her gaze drifted from Tom back to Maddie. “My husband’s in back scrubbing up. We’re just about to have supper. Why don’t y’all come sit a spell and take the evening meal with us. We’ve enough to go around and would be delighted to have you.”

Tom wished he was alone. It would make things a lot easier. As it was, Maddie had started to wilt a few miles back, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of slipping away. He thanked Mrs. Cole and accepted her invitation.

The woman told him where to hitch their horses and wash up before they came inside. Tom walked over to Maddie’s horse, prepared to hold the reins while she dismounted. Despite what he thought of her, when their eyes met, his heart involuntarily quickened.

Before he thought about what he was doing, he reached up to help her down. She surprised him by leaning toward him. His
hands slipped around her waist. It was slim and firm, yet womanly. The instant he felt her warmth through the thin fabric of her worn blouse, his hands tightened at her waist. He heard her gasp. Her eyes widened, as if she, too, was startled by the connection.

She slid off of the mare, trapped between him and her mount. Lost in the moment, neither of them moved. For a heartbeat the world stopped as he stared down into her upturned face, inexplicably drawn to her. He slowly leaned nearer. Captivated, he heard no sound, saw nothing but Maddie.

“Mama? Should I set two more places at the table?” The Coles’s oldest daughter’s voice drifted to them, breaking the spell.

Tom quickly stepped away from Maddie and grabbed the mare’s reins. Shaken by his reaction to her nearness, he refused to look at her again. Nor did he look at the woman on the porch waiting for them to wash up and go inside. He stared at his boots as he walked both horses to the hitching post outside a barn with a sagging roofline, cursing his loss of discipline. Spontaneous magnetic attraction had to be the only explanation for what had just happened. He’d been alone with her for too long, that was all. Despite who and what she was, there was no denying that she was a beautiful woman. He’d be a fool to let her work her wiles on him. Better to acknowledge the power of her beauty so that he could guard against it.

There was no way he would ever let himself nourish deep feelings for a woman like Maddie Grande, no matter how beautiful or how much she played on his sympathies. No way on earth.

He hitched the horses, stalling when he saw Maddie poised near the rain barrel in the shadows beside the barn. He watched her cup her hands, close her eyes, and lift the water to her face. She washed in the clear rainwater, eyes still closed, a slight smile of relief on her lips as droplets slipped down her throat, dampened the collar and bodice of her blouse. She paid no heed, cupped more of the clear water, dipped her face and opened her mouth to take a drink. He watched her bare throat move as she swallowed.

When she straightened, she slowly turned his way as if she had felt his stare. When she caught him watching, her face colored and her hands flew to her damp bodice. She turned on her heel and headed for the house, bending down to wipe her face on the hem of her skirt.

Tom realized he had been holding his breath. Before he went to wash up, he waited until she disappeared inside, reminding himself over and over that not only was she an accomplice in a kidnapping, but a liar and thief like her brothers.

He was not just a Pinkerton. First and foremost, he was a man who believed in honor, in doing his job and seeing things through. He wasn’t about to let a thief like Maddie Grande steal his heart.

M
r. Cole ushered Maddie to the long wooden table in the middle of the kitchen where his family gathered for dinner. He seated her beside Tom Abbott. Still embarrassed about what had happened outside, Maddie refused to look at Tom. Unfortunately, she was therefore forced to watch the Cole children seated across from her. Her heart soon ached for what might have been.

The two girls flanked their little brother and filled his plate for him. They seemed adept at caring for him, as if it were second nature. Not only was Maddie reminded of life with the tribe and her duty to care for the younger ones, but of Rene. As the first surviving child born into the tribe, he’d been coddled by one and all.

Seated at the well-laden table filled with serving bowls heaped with mashed potatoes, home-grown vegetables, and a platter full of sliced ham, Maddie couldn’t help but notice and admire not only the abundance, but the way the Coles behaved toward each other.

There had been no organized meals in the tribe. They never sat down to break bread together. They worked the streets in twos and threes, and when they were hungry and couldn’t steal food, they made their way back to the warehouse where Anita would have a pot of gumbo or beans and rice simmering on the stove. They ate whenever and wherever they desired.

Dexter was usually seated in his overstuffed chair holding
court, collecting earnings and treasures the children brought to him and tossing them into a communal pot. It was the same with their food. Whatever they “earned” they shared.

On national holidays when other Louisianans went out in celebration, the tribe worked the streets. On solemn holidays when families gathered together in churches and homes and the streets were nearly deserted, the tribe complained about the fact that they were not plying their trade.

The food on the table smelled wonderful. Maddie’s mouth watered as she started to reach for a bowl filled with a mountain of creamy mashed potatoes beside her plate.

“Let’s join our hands in thanksgiving,” Mr. Cole said.

She jumped as if caught stealing, but none of the Coles noticed. They had already bowed their heads and were holding hands with one another. Mrs. Cole, seated at the opposite end of the table from her husband, was holding Tom Abbott’s left hand.

Maddie slipped her hand into Mr. Cole’s, who was on her own left, but hesitated before she reached for Abbott’s right hand. He must have sensed her reluctance. He turned to meet her gaze for the first time since they had entered the house.

Heat seared her cheeks. She quickly ducked her head and stared at the table.

His hand was on the table palm up, waiting for her to take it. Without meeting his eyes again she took a deep breath and slipped her palm into his. When his fingers closed around her hand, dwarfing it, her pulse jumped erratically. She felt herself flush even deeper. Instinctively she tried to pull her hand away and sever the connection, hoping to end the unwelcome emotions sweeping through her.

His touch was cool, firm, and inescapable.

She forced herself to breathe slow and evenly.

Mr. Cole gave thanks for the food. While Maddie sat in silence, everyone, including Abbott, said amen. He finally let go and Maddie pulled her hand away. She folded her hands together in her lap until her heart stopped hammering.

She was tempted to see if Tom showed any sign of having felt anything when they touched. Fear that he had kept her from looking his way.

“You may pass the mashed potatoes around, Miss Grande,” Mrs. Cole said. The woman’s voice lacked its earlier warmth, and Maddie wondered if that was because she hadn’t said amen like the rest of them.

As the meal progressed, she caught Mrs. Cole studying her a number of times. Halfway through, the sound of rain started hitting the roof. The smell of damp, newly tilled earth filled the air.

Mr. Cole kept up a steady stream of conversation.