Heart of Lies (26 page)

“But — “ His eyes widened. He glanced toward the huge sliding door of the warehouse, then he searched the open spaces. Betsy had already tucked the other boy out of sight. The child opened his mouth as if he were about to wail. Maddie put her hand over his lips and leaned close.

“Bad men are after you. It’s lucky Dexter found you or you’d be dead already. Now get in and stay there. When it’s safe, I’ll let you out. You speak to no one but me. Trust
no one
but me.”

When she lifted her hand away from his mouth, the boy was still terrified but no longer wailing.

“I’m scairt of the dark,” he whispered.

“You should be more scared of what those horrible men will do if they find you. Now get in.”

He climbed inside.

“Sit,” she commanded.

He slipped down the inside wall and hugged his knees to his chest.

“Keep quiet no matter what you hear. I’ll bring you food when it’s safe.”

She quickly slammed the door before he could protest. Betsy
watched from across the room, her own ward already safely locked away. The older girl nodded as Maddie turned the key in the lock.

Within five minutes both boys were pounding on the doors, screaming to be let out. They cried until they grew hoarse and their screams subsided.

Maddie covered her ears until the only sounds issuing from the cupboard were hiccups and an occasional weak moan. Finally she tapped on the armoire door.

“You’d best be quiet, boy,” she whispered. “The bad men are right outside.”

She and Betsy went back to tossing dice.

“Wonder what he’ll name them,” Betsy said.

From a broken-down armchair beside a low table stacked with baskets full of gold pocket watches and ladies’ reticules, coin purses, and silver snuff boxes, Dexter heard them and smiled. He wore a velvet tailcoat and a saffron brocade vest. A shoddy tricornered hat, one of his abundant collection of hats, was within reach.

“I was thinking of naming them Terrance and Lawrence,” he said. “How does that sound?”

Betsy shrugged. “Why not?”

Maddie thought the names were as good as any. She liked how they rhymed.

She heard a small, desperate thump on the door of the armoire where her twin was hidden, but there were no more wails.

Betsy’s twin was deemed ready to be released a day short of three weeks later. He didn’t even ask what happened to his brother. Dexter named him Lawrence.

After forty-one days in the dark cabinet—long days and nights during which Maddie was the only person to speak to him, the only one to bring him food and water, or to change his slop pot—the boy renamed Terrance finally stopped asking for his mama.

When he was at last allowed to emerge, blinking like a wary mole at the light that filtered in through the warehouse windows, he answered only to Terrance. Though he was immediately drawn
to his twin brother and tickled by their likeness, he had to be reintroduced. Neither had any memory of their former life.

Maddie’s first “changing” was a much-celebrated success, though the process eventually began to haunt her. With Betsy’s disappearance shortly after Maddie was trained, Dexter depended upon Maddie to turn child after child.

Some of the tribe joined the band of their own accord, but they were usually a bit older, between eight and eleven. Some were white, others free children of color. More straggled in after the war left them adrift and homeless. They found life with the tribe easier than having to scrounge for themselves. Life with Dexter offered them protection and something they all craved: family.

Terrance shifted on the hard chair. The chains rattled, bringing Maddie’s thoughts back to the narrow, windowless room.

“You come to say anything in particular other than good-bye?”

“I wanted to thank you for telling the truth about my part in the kidnapping.” She wondered if perhaps he had done it because there was an ounce of good in him somewhere. At least she hoped so until he leaned forward and spoke in a low whisper.

“You think I did it out of the kindness of my heart? Think again. I figured with you on the outside, I’d stand a better chance of finding my way out of here someday—if you know what I mean.”

The guard stepped up, grabbed Terrance by the shoulder, and forced his back against the chair.

“But with you in Texas, I guess I can forget the notion of you breaking me out of here. Just don’t be a fool too long, Madeline. You’ll never be anything but a thief and a liar. You’ll never be able to hide who you really are, not even under a hundred fancy dresses and hats.”

“Did you kill Lawrence?” She asked him point blank.

“I shot him, if that’s what you mean.”

“Did you kill him to keep him quiet?”

Terrance’s stare never wavered. He leaned closer. The guard
was there again, nudging him back into his seat. Reminding them they were not alone. Terrance lowered his voice to a whisper.

“What do you think, Maddie? You’re the one who made me who I am. You’re the one who taught us how to survive. What do
you
think?”

T
o Maddie’s way of thinking, nothing changed between her and Tom during the long journey to Texas. He was polite, albeit distant. He purchased a new carpetbag for her things, one that complimented a small hat trimmed with curled emerald ribbons and little blue feathers that Madame Bouchard had tucked in as a
lagniappe,
an unexpected little extra given by New Orleans merchants and vendors. He made certain she was comfortably settled whether aboard the train or the steamer across the gulf.

It should have been an exciting journey full of promise.

From the moment they boarded the train in New Orleans she tried to convince herself she should be happy. But riding beside Tom, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, reminded her that they might soon part ways.

Passing bayous and rivers, fields of waving cane, the cypress forests, tupelo, gum, and water oak on the way to Breashear Bay, she found herself wondering why she’d ever agreed to this. How did she think she could walk away from the only home she’d ever known? How naïve she’d been to think she could spend days in Tom’s company and not be tempted to give in to her longing?

Then she would remember why she was here. If Laura McCormick was her sister, she could be one step closer to the life she’d always wanted, a real home, perhaps even family.

You should be happy.

Tom kept his distance when he could. She should have been grateful, but that only made her anticipate the times she could be near him. He was ever solicitous while escorting her from her cabin to the dining room aboard the steamer. Sitting beside her on the long train rides, he made certain she was comfortable. He saw to their meals and hurried her along when they disembarked during the brief stops at depot restaurants.

He was confident and organized, caring and committed to her safety. On the rare occasions when he would let down his guard, they would converse and even laugh about something they saw along the way. They were so close, so companionable, that Maddie was tempted by the possibility that they might very well make a fine life together — until she remembered who she was and what she had done.

Most of the time Tom remained distant. He never tried to kiss her or hold her hand. He was so expert at masking his emotions that she began to wonder if his feelings had changed since the night she told him she would never love him.

She should have been happy but she wasn’t.

As they neared their destination, she found herself hoping that the McCormick woman would take one look at her and announce that she couldn’t possibly be Megan Lane. At least then she’d be free to go back to Louisiana.

After they left Galveston to board the train to Dallas, the land opened up with each mile away from the Gulf. They crossed high tableland broken by a series of hills and valleys. Herds of cattle were scattered across land so open and unbroken, so dry, she wondered how they survived the elements. She found herself longing for the lush, fertile land and humidity of Louisiana, for the Spanish moss and deep forest shadows of the bayou.

She knew nothing of Texas. The land didn’t speak to her the way the bayou did.

Now, as they sat shoulder to shoulder crammed into the jolting,
brightly lacquered Concord stage on the last leg of the trip to Glory, she wasn’t happy in the least. She was not only scared spitless, but afraid the swaying motion of the stage was about to bring up her hastily downed breakfast.

She snuck a glance at Tom and caught him staring at her. When they’d met outside their hotel rooms in Dallas that morning, she noticed he was freshly shaved, wearing a clean white shirt beneath his black coat and vest. He was a striking man. She’d seen more than one woman openly admire him along the way.

A shiver ran down her spine as he leaned close and whispered in her ear.

“You look a little green. Are you all right?”

She nodded, afraid to speak.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Both of the wall seats as well as the bench seat down the middle of the coach were filled. A plain-featured woman with a toddler asleep on her lap sat on her right. Maddie tried not to stare at the child though she ached to hold him. Her gaze kept drifting to his angelic expression.

The woman’s husband was on the opposite seat beyond the center bench. He, too, was sound asleep, head back, snoring with his mouth open. Maddie wondered how anyone could sleep through the series of jolts and spine-bruising bumps.

A young soldier in full uniform sat next to the window staring forlornly across the plain. A lawyer from Houston occupied the bench seat directly across from Maddie. He apologized each time his bony knees connected with hers.

“Is it much further?” she asked Tom.

The lawyer pulled his watch out of his waistcoat.

“We should be there in about twenty more minutes,” he said, snapping the watch closed.

She thanked him, looked across at the toddler and out the window.

Only twenty minutes to Glory?
There was absolutely no sign that they were anywhere near a town.

She could hold on for twenty more minutes. She brushed at the dust on the skirt of her new traveling ensemble. That morning, for the first time, she had donned the lovely raspberry skirt and blouse from Madame Bouchard. The pieces fit perfectly, and she found the contrast between the deep purple hue and the emerald cape stunning. Each time she recalled the admiration on Tom’s face when she had stepped out of her hotel room, she blushed all over again.

Peering around the ruffled edge of her little silk hat, she took the opportunity to study his profile as he stared out the window on his side of the coach, apparently lost in thought. Either he was worried that she wasn’t Megan Lane or he was as loath to say good-bye as she.

He turned without warning, caught her staring. She blushed but didn’t look away.

“They do know we’re coming?” she asked.

He nodded. “I sent a telegram early this morning before we left Dallas. Told them we’d be on the afternoon stage.”

“You think she’ll be there to meet us?”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Not in the least embarrassed at eavesdropping, the lawyer added, “We’re running late.”

They fell silent. The stage bounced and swayed so violently she was convinced the driver was aiming for every pothole.

She concentrated on the view and then, as if it had suddenly popped up out of the ground, the town of Glory appeared. The stage slowed as they passed a small park with a tiny white church and church hall, then entered one end of an extremely wide street, apparently the only one in town. It was lined on both sides by false-fronted shops and stores. Most were one story, but there was an occasional second story here and there. She saw the livery and a land office. The
Glory Gazette
newspaper was housed in its own
building. There was a small milliner’s shop and a butcher shop next door.

The stage finally stopped outside the dry goods and mercantile. Maddie leaned closer to the window. The boardwalk was empty.

Passengers in the center seat piled out before Tom took his turn. He offered her his hand. Maddie realized she’d not only grown accustomed to his gentlemanly manners, but craved his touch, no matter how fleeting. He always offered her a hand in and out of conveyances. His palm rode possessively at her waist whenever he ushered her along.

I’ll miss this. I’ll miss him.

The realization came swift and hard as he let go of her hand as soon as she was safely on the boardwalk. She didn’t allow herself to think past this minute. Courage in place, she shook out her skirt and gazed around.

They were in the middle of town with the wide-open sky visible all around. Glory was barely two blocks long and nothing like New Orleans. There was nowhere to hide. No anonymity here.

She waited until the residual rocking motion stopped before she moved. The guard atop the stage was tossing baggage down to a storekeep who’d appeared from the mercantile. The clerk was tall and thin, his hair carefully parted down the center and well oiled. As he lined up the baggage on the boardwalk, he nodded to passengers and called a greeting to the driver, then took the mailbag the guard handed down.

The weather was brisk and cool, though the sun was shining. The passengers collected their baggage and wasted no time milling around on the boardwalk. A buckboard arrived and a rancher collected the young family. The soldier headed down the street. Maddie watched him pass through the swinging double doors of the Silver Slipper Saloon. The lawyer hurried toward the land office. Within minutes, only she and Tom were left.

“I’m Harrison Barker.” The storekeep introduced himself, hooking his thumbs in his vest. He nodded toward the store. “I
own the Mercantile and Dry Goods. Welcome to Glory. Anything I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Tom introduced them both. “We need directions and a ride to the McCormick place. Is it far?”

Barker shifted the bag of mail and nodded down the street. “No need for a ride. You see that big house at the very end of Main? Grandest house in these parts. That’s Foster’s Boarding-house.” Then he cleared his throat. “Actually, it hasn’t been a boardinghouse for nearly a year now. Not since the owner married the preacher and he and his children moved in.”