The Loyal Heart (13 page)

“Give him a chance, Miranda,” Sheriff Kern said.

Glaring at him coldly, she said, “I think it is best if we go back to a more distant relationship, sir.”

Hurt flashed in the sheriff's eyes before he nodded. “If that is what you wish, Mrs. Markham.”

When she noticed the men exchange yet another cautious glance with each other, her pulse started racing. “Explain yourselves, gentlemen,” she bit out, hardly able to keep her anger and dismay at bay.

“I served the Confederacy in the war, ma'am,” Sheriff Kern said. “Just as Robert did. And Phillip.”

“A great many men served the Confederacy.”

“That is true. A great many men also died.”

“I am aware of that.”

Mr. Truax's jaw tightened, then he said, “Several thousand men were also imprisoned in a camp in the middle of Lake Erie, off the coast of Ohio. It was called Johnson's Island. Most of the captives there were officers but there were also a smattering of privates and grunts like me.”

She felt as if the wind was getting knocked out of her. “Johnson's Island is where Phillip was imprisoned.”

“Yes, it was. Johnson's Island is also where I was imprisoned, Mrs. Markham,” Sheriff Kern said quietly. “Robert was too.”

“You . . . you two knew each other there, then?”

“No. We never met there, although Jess told me the other day that he remembers me, and I remember seeing him,” Robert said. “All three of us were taken to be prisoners of war in early 1865. There was a large group of us. Some were great men. Even generals. We were bored. And some of us bonded.”

“Did you know Phillip, Mr. Truax?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You served with my husband.”

“Yes. And may I say that he was everything you knew him to be. A true gentleman. Heroic and brave.”

Robert had known her husband. He'd known Phillip. He'd seen him before he died.

“How did he die?” she whispered.

“He died in his cot surrounded by friends,” Robert said. “He was injured. He had gangrene. It spread. He died just weeks before we were released.”

She knew that. She'd received the telegram. “Were you with him when he died?”

“I was,” Mr. Truax said, his eyes looking strangely vacant. “Well, I was there shortly after. Another officer was taking a turn by his side when he passed.”

Though their words were far beyond anything she'd ever imagined, she forced herself to focus on one thing. “So he didn't die while being interrogated and giving secrets.”

“None of us was interrogated,” Robert said. “Not really. It was at the end of the war. There was no point.”

She gasped. Tried to hold her tears at bay. “But . . .” Her voice drifted off as she tried to wrap her mind around what she'd just learned. “I mean, everyone's been saying he betrayed us all.”

“They are wrong,” Mr. Truax said without a moment's hesitation. “That rumor is wrong. Phillip betrayed no one. If you only believe one thing I say, ma'am, please know that Phillip Markham died a hero. He was honorable and stoic. He also loved you more than mere words could ever describe.”

Tears pricked her eyes. Tears that she'd thought she'd long since stopped crying. The feeling of despair that had clung to her like a heavy, prickly cloak dissipated. It was replaced by something new—a hot, vigilant anger.

She got to her feet. “Why haven't you said anything, Mr. Truax? Why did you not tell me who you were to Phillip when you came? I remember now. Phillip wrote about you, just as he wrote about his other friends. You know how I've been treated here in Galveston. You know how Phillip's memory has been vilified with these lies. How could you have let that continue? How could you have kept your silence?”

“I had no choice.”

“Of course you did.”

“Ma'am, I did not. I could not betray a confidence.”

“What confidence?” she scoffed. “Phillip is dead.”

“You don't understand, Miranda. There are things I can't tell you.”

“Obviously,” she said bitterly.

“There was more at stake than your husband's memory,” Robert whispered. “We couldn't betray the cause.”

“The cause? As you said, the war is over and we lost. We lost!” she cried out, not even caring that she sounded out of control and shrill. “We lost and so did Phillip.”

Sheriff Kern clumsily got to his feet. “Mrs. Markham, please take a chair. You must calm yourself.”

She ignored him, still staring in wonder at Robert. “Why? Why did you keep your silence?” She was shaking now. “What confidence are you talking about? The war is over. Nothing that used to matter does anymore.”

“That is where you are wrong, ma'am. Everything that happened matters. And everything we shared in that god-forsaken camp matters now. It is not forgotten.”

Tears now fell unashamedly down her cheeks. “What happened there means more to you than I do? Than what I've been going through? I've been so upset by the rumor everyone's believed . . . I've been hopeless.”

“Yes. Well . . .” Sheriff Kern leaned forward, as if he was intending to clasp her hand.

She was very glad he did not. And though it was so difficult, so painful, she forced herself to continue. “I have not wanted to live anymore.”

Though both men flushed, neither spoke.

Which was why a sudden, terrible thought entered her mind, took hold, and fairly took her breath away. “Sheriff, are you the one who has been writing me those letters? Are you the one who has been torturing me all this time?”

“Of course not.”

But when Kern and Mr. Truax exchanged glances, she felt her insides practically fall apart.

They were still keeping secrets.

And that made her realize her situation wasn't just bad.

It was actually far worse than she'd believed it to be. Maybe far worse than she'd ever imagined.

R
OBERT WAS AFRAID IF HE TOUCHED HER
, M
IRANDA WOULD
lose the last bit of control she had over her emotions.

She looked that fragile.

She was staring blankly into space. Tears ran unabashedly down her face, unchecked. Robert figured she either didn't notice or didn't care that the tiny drops were cascading down her cheeks. Each one landed on the bodice of her gown and made a small stain.

As he stared at the water marks, the self-loathing he felt deepened.

Across from Robert, Kern stared at her in much the same way Robert was assuming he looked. The sheriff's expression reflected a hundred emotions, each one guiltier than the next.

They needed to do something. Fix this. Fix her pain.

But was there a way to tell Miranda—and Jess—enough about Phillip's undercover work without ignoring Captain Monroe's orders or betraying the very men Phillip had risked so much to protect? Though the war was over, both sides hadn't completely put the battles, injuries, or losses behind them. No soldiers wanted everything they'd done in the name of war to come to light.

As soldiers and officers, they were trained to put their mission and their cause above personal needs. Above any one person's
feelings. But their cause had died, along with so many of the men they'd sworn to protect and serve.

And here was a widow who had dealt with the consequences of their actions. In many ways she'd suffered as much as they had.

Was there a way to ease her suffering and make things right . . . without betraying his vow to Captain Monroe? He wasn't exactly sure. All he did know was that he had to at least make an attempt.

“Miranda,” he began haltingly. “I know how you must be feeling.”

Her eyes flashed. “Forgive me, but you have no idea.” Somewhere inside her, she seemed to find the strength to raise her voice. “Ever since I learned Phillip was gone, I've been alone.” More tears filled her eyes.

Kern shifted uncomfortably. “I'm sorry for your loss, but of course you are not the only Confederate widow.”

“I am not. But I am the only widow in Galveston, Texas, who was burdened with her husband's sins.” Looking at Robert with a barely concealed contempt, she added succinctly, “Sins I never believed he had.”

“He was a good man, Miranda. What I knew of him, he was brave,” Kern said.

She glared at him. “Forgive me, Sheriff Kern, but I don't have any desire to hear you talk about my husband ever again.”

Kern flinched. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yet neither did you help.”

“Don't forget, madam, that you kept much of your pain to yourself. I had no idea you had received so many letters.”

“I won't forget. How could I ever forget what it felt like to be vilified by my friends? I came here as a young bride, moved into Phillip's house just days before he left for battle, and with his death turned from his bride to his reminder. At first, he was
considered a hero like all the other men who fought. But then the lies started, and everyone turned their backs on me.”

She drew in a breath, then added, “All because someone made up rumors about him that I now know for certain are not true.”

“I will discover who did that,” Robert said.

She stilled. “How?”

“I'll find a way.”

“Thank you, sir. That explains so much.”

Robert knew there was no way he could fully explain either his motives or his reasons. “Let us not dwell on the past, Mrs. Markham. There is nothing we can do or say to make it easier to bear.”

“I agree. However, the past is all I have.”

He leaned forward. “Not anymore, ma'am. I am here to make sure your future will be far better. Please, trust me to make things right.”

But instead of looking relieved, she merely stared at him in loathing. “I don't intend to ever trust you again. You lied to me about who you were as well as your past.”

“I did not lie about my past. I told you I served.”

“You did not tell me the whole truth about your connection to Phillip. When you arrived, you should have simply told me you served with my husband. I would have been glad to meet you.”

“I couldn't. I was bound by my promise to our captain.”

“What promise could you have possibly given him that affected me?”

“I was asked to visit you, to make sure you were all right. If you were, I was going to leave and not disrupt your routine.”

“My routine. And never tell me who you were?”

He exhaled. “It all sounds convoluted now. All I can say is that my intentions were true. And I will help you now. I promise, I will not leave here until your burdens are lighter.”

“Even if I did let you help me, I don't see how you will ever be able to make my life easier. I don't know how either of you will be able to discover who wrote these letters, who started these rumors.”

“We will, Mrs. Markham,” Sheriff Kern said. “Whether or not you believe me, I can promise you I intend to keep my word.”

“I will earn your trust, minute by minute, hour by hour,” Robert vowed. “And while I am working toward that goal, I will do everything in my power to seek out this blackmailer.”

“Everything in your power?” she echoed, her voice thick with doubt and sarcasm. “What power could you possibly have?”

At that moment, Robert would have liked nothing better than to share his whole past with her.

Instead, he ached to describe to her in more detail what his childhood was like, to describe just how dirty and hungry he'd been. How lonely. How bitter. How it had felt to join the army and to be so grateful for his meals in basic training that it had caused the other men to ridicule him.

How it felt to fight next to men who believed they were so much better than he was because they were blessed enough to be born to parents who cared.

He yearned to describe the battlefields of the war to Miranda. To tell her the things he'd done.

He ached to share with her the conditions in their prison camp. The despair they'd all fought. The melancholy, hope, and guilt that filled them, knowing they were merely biding time while their comrades were putting their lives on the line.

Maybe if he shared those things, she wouldn't think he was merely some polished dandy filled with nothing more than empty promises. Maybe then she'd look at him in the eye again. Look at him like he was worth something.

Look at him like he was worthy of her.

But of course, he did none of those things. Instead, he said stiffly, “I would like to think I have some power. But the man your husband and I served under has even more influence than I. I'll send a dispatch to Devin Monroe immediately.”

She blinked. “Captain Monroe?”

“Have you heard of him?” Kern asked.

“Yes, of course. Phillip wrote of him. Often.” Some of the bitterness that had enveloped her evaporated. “I wasn't aware he had survived the war.”

“It is my honor, then, to inform you that he not only survived, but he's made it his calling to ensure that we all survive the war's aftermath. He's the reason I came here to check on you. Once he discovers how terrible your situation actually is, I have no doubt that he will come here to join us.”

“But why? Phillip is gone.”

“Phillip has passed on to heaven, that is true. But what you might not understand is the depth of his love for you.”

“How would you know?”

“He spoke of you often.” Feeling a bit bashful, he corrected himself. “Actually, he spoke of you all the time, ma'am. And he made us all aware of you and your goodness.” He also told them about her beauty, but he kept that to himself.

Her blue eyes widened. “I . . . I had no idea.”

“Before he died, he asked us all to look out for you,” Robert continued as he got to his feet. “To my shame, I haven't done much of a good job of that. But eventually I will do him proud.”

“We all will, Miranda,” Kern said as he stood up. “Somehow, some way, you will be avenged and Phillip's true heroism will be celebrated once again. That is my vow.”

Still sitting, she stared up at both of them in obvious wonder. Gazed at them as if she'd never seen them before in her life.

And then, at last, she smiled.

Her smile was beautiful. It was a gift.

Once more, Robert knew it was everything he'd ever desired and never believed he could have. The appreciation of a beautiful woman.

One day, he vowed, he would deserve it.

Bowing slightly, he said, “Again, I am sorry for my deception. I'm going to move out of here, find somewhere else to stay. Perhaps you have a spare room at the sheriff's office, Jess?”

“You don't wish to be around me anymore?” What was she asking?

“Given the circumstances, I think it would be best for both of us if we had some space between us.”

“No. Please, don't go.” Her tone was desperate.

She'd managed to shock him. “I won't ask for a refund of money,” he said slowly.

“It's not the money. It's . . .” She closed her eyes, then stammered, “I simply don't think I can bear to feel like I'm by myself again.”

Her honesty was humbling. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I have much to come to terms with, but I'd rather have you here than not.”

Robert inclined his head. “Thank you, ma'am. I will stay until you tell me otherwise.”

“I had best take my leave.” Turning to Miranda, Kern bowed stiffly. “Mrs. Markham, I am sorry for my deception. I hope in time you will be able to forgive me.”

“I hope so too, sir,” she said before he took his leave.

When they were alone, Robert stared at her. Noticed how pale and exhausted she looked.

Wished there was something more to say. But because he felt
as if he was out of words, he simply turned and walked with leaden steps to his room.

He needed to go to his desk and write another, more urgent note to his captain. But at the moment, all he wanted to do was sit and stare out the window and think about all he had almost lost.

Belle approached him just as he reached his room. She looked as hesitant and worried as she had when he'd found her at the sheriff's office. “Belle, what is wrong?”

Her hands were clenching the sides of her white apron. “Mr. Truax, you're not going to leave, are you?” Had she listened to their conversation?

“No, though I probably should. It's improper for me to continue to stay.”

“Of course it isn't. Though your reasons for being here might be different, your circumstances haven't changed.”

“They have.” No, everything had changed. Miranda now thought of him as a liar.

The maid looked skeptical, but still she pressed. “But you're still going to stay.”

“I'm going to stay,” he promised.

“Good,” she said before turning down the hall.

Leaving him with his thoughts.

And he? Well, he now realized Miranda had gotten under his skin. He didn't look into her blue eyes thinking about her husband or his quest to make things right. Instead, he only thought about how he could make a living out of simply gazing into her eyes. Or making them shine.

He no longer sought only to redeem her husband's memory.
Instead, when he thought about her, he thought about how gentle she was. How much he cared about her.

He thought about how he wished she was his.

He found himself plotting in the middle of the night ways in which he could try to win her over. Win her heart.

As if he were worthy of such a woman's love.

It was selfish too. Yet again, he was betraying his humble roots. Or maybe it was his selfish, rough nature. He was used to fighting for things he believed in and clawing and grasping at everything he wanted. Somehow in his goal to clear the black mark around Phillip's name he'd interjected his own wants.