The Loyal Heart (26 page)

Since several men and women were still waiting to be helped, the bank president himself beckoned the next person in line forward.

As Major Kelly took her arm, one of the women who had been standing in line eyed her in a confused way. “You certainly have some friends in high places, Mrs. Markham.”

“No,” Kelly interrupted. “I am the one who has that honor. Miranda is one of the finest women I've met. She was the wife of one of the best men I had the good fortune to serve with.”

“Yes, well. There are some who say—”

“I would watch who you listen to from now on, ma'am. You may begin to regret your choice of causes.”

Two men and one woman nodded. “It's about time someone put that clerk in his place,” one of the men said. “It's been difficult to watch how they've been treating you in here, week after week.”

Though Miranda ached to ask why he had never stood up for her, she merely nodded as they exited, her hand clinging to Major Kelly's arm like it was her lifeline.

The moment they walked down the stairs, Miranda blew out a breath of air she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. “Major Kelly, you are a force to be reckoned with.”

“No, ma'am. I am simply old enough to be tired of having to put up with such foolishness.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Robert scared them, but you somehow made the threat stick.”

Major Kelly looked pleased. “To tell you the truth, it felt really good to throw my weight around. I hadn't done that in a while.”

“You don't do such antics in San Antonio?” she asked as they walked toward the edge of the Strand, next to the rows of
cluttered warehouses, some damaged in storms or during the Galveston battle.

“No,” he said quietly. “My—” Stopping abruptly, he reached for her elbow. “Get behind me, Miranda.”

Startled, she did as he asked. But when she peeked around him, she saw what he was guarding her against. None other than Kyle Winter was facing them with a pistol. He was holding it in both of his shaking hands. Miranda wondered if he'd ever held a gun before. She hoped it was not loaded, but she had to assume it was.

“Come with me,” he ordered her.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“You will not go anywhere with him,” Major Kelly said. “I would have to be incapacitated for that to happen.”

“That can be arranged,” Mr. Winter said. Just before he shot Major Kelly in the thigh.

“H
ALLELUJAH
!” D
EVIN
M
ONROE EXCLAIMED THE MOMENT
they walked off the ferry and stepped foot onto Galveston Island. “I thought we were never going to get back on this island in one piece.”

Robert chuckled. “I've been with you through battles and marches and prisoner-of-war camps. Through it all, you've never done more than press forward, hardly flinching. But today was a new experience.”

Still looking a bit green, his captain attempted to draw himself up. “I don't usually get seasick. The sea was unusually rough.”

“It was choppy, I'll give you that. But you were also unusually squeamish.” He started laughing again. There was no hope of even trying to keep a straight face.

Devin looked away. “All I'm saying is that one would think our day's trip would have been easier. We were only going to Houston and back. Not Timbuktu.”

“One would think,” Robert quipped. Then as he remembered how callous the women were and how much they didn't seem to have a single moment's regret for their treatment of Miranda, he said, far more soberly, “Unfortunately, it was even worse than I remember.”

“I swear, I think it was easier to direct two hundred men than those two women.”

“Of course it was. The men listened. Those females did not.”

“Neither did the ferryman.” Devin rolled his eyes. “If he told me once, he told me a hundred times that he wasn't allowed to operate the ferry unless he was filled to capacity.”

“He did stay true to his word.”

“His sense of urgency has much to be desired,” Devin said under his breath. “If there was ever a day that I wished I was still a captain and had some say in this world, today was it.”

“Indeed, sir.” Because he had experience with his captain's extremely rare loss of patience, Robert took care to look impassive. But inside, he was grinning like a loon. It had been quite a sight to see his captain, who held the respect of even generals, get beaten down by a pudgy ferryboat captain with a chip on his shoulder.

As they started down Water Street, Robert tipped his hat at an awaiting lady, then spoke. “Sir, it's late. I suggest we relax the rest of the evening. We can compare notes in the morning and visit with the bank clerk then.”

“I like the way you're talking, soldier,” Devin said with a grin. “I'm freezing cold and in need of a hot beverage, a bath, and a roaring fire.” He paused. “Not necessarily in that order.”

Robert was about to agree when he noticed Miranda's servant Emerson standing just beyond the ferry platform with a panicked expression on his face. “Something's happened,” he said as he strode ahead.

The moment Emerson spied him he breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the good Lord. I didn't think you'd ever show up, sir.”

That comment only made his heart beat faster. “What has happened?”

“Everything, it seems,” he sputtered.

“Explain yourself,” Devin ordered.

“Oh, yes, sir. You see, well, I have some news to tell you about Major Kelly. You see, he arrived earlier and . . .”

Emerson's words were almost too much to take in at once. Mind spinning, Robert turned to his captain to try to make sense of things. “Did you know Ethan was coming here?”

“I wasn't sure he would join us, but I hoped he would. After I received your letter, I wrote Kelly and told him what's been happening with Phillip's wife. I told him you've additionally been uncovering information right and left. I can only assume he took it upon himself to lend a hand.”

“Well, he may be regretting that decision,” Emerson said. “On account that he got shot, you see.”

Time seemed to freeze. “Shot, you say?” Devin asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yessir.” Emerson pointed down the street behind them. “Right outside the bank it was.”

“Is he alive?”

Emerson brightened a bit. “Oh, yessir, he is. Matter of fact, he's with the surgeon now. He's a good one too.”

“How good?” Devin asked.

“I promise, Captain, that he's a real particular doctor. Not a sawbones in the slightest. Keeps his offices spick and span, he does. Major Kelly is in good hands.”

After mumbling something under his breath, the captain said, “Take me to him, Emerson. I need to see this for myself. I've yet to meet a surgeon I would trust not to make things worse.”

“I'll go too,” Robert said, wondering who would shoot Ethan and why. “If he needs anything, I can go fetch it. Emerson, please tell Mrs. Markham where we are, and that we'll talk to Sheriff Kern as soon as we can.”

But Emerson shook his head. “No, sir. You see, that ain't
all. From what I understand, Major Kelly accompanied Mrs. Markham to the bank—”

“Miranda was with him?” Robert nearly shouted.

“Yessir. And he got mad when people there were being rude to her. Then he called out Mr. Carrington.”

“Who is that?”

“The bank president himself!” Emerson declared proudly. “After Major Kelly told him who he was, and Mr. Carrington put two and two together and all, he apologized to Mrs. Markham.”

Robert was interested in the story but was more interested in seeing to his old friend and making sure Miranda was safe and well. “Tell us about it later, Emerson. After you tell me how Mrs. Markham is. Did she accompany the major to the physician?”

The little man gulped. “No, sir.”

“Pardon me?”

“You see, I ain't done.”

“Finish up, if you please,” Captain Monroe said.

“Well, Major Kelly wanted Mr. Carrington to help Mrs. Markham instead of Mr. Winter.”

“That man is a worm,” explained Robert. “If I could prevent him from even looking Miranda's way again, I would.”

“Oh, yes, sir, he is,” Emerson said. “See, you see . . . Mr. Carrington agreed, but Mr. Winter got mad.”

“And then?” Monroe said impatiently. “Get to the point.”

“And then Mr. Carrington told him to leave. And when Miss Miranda and Major Kelly left the building, Mr. Winter shot Major Kelly and took Mrs. Markham!”

He could sense Monroe's unease, but for Robert, time seemed to stand still. “Took her where?”

“I'm not sure, exactly. But by all accounts, everyone believes they darted into the warehouse district.”

Robert's pulse started to race, not from fear but adrenaline. It was the same reaction his body had when they were mere minutes from going into battle. “Where is Mrs. Markham now, Emerson?”

“That's what I've been trying to tell ya,” Emerson said with a pull on his collar. “Mrs. Markham is with Mr. Winter in the warehouses and no one has seen hide nor hair of her for hours.” Looking both appalled and dejected, he said, “I'm sorry to tell you, sir, but she's been kidnapped.”

Robert looked at the captain. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. “Did you say ‘hours'?” After Emerson nodded, he barked, “When, exactly, did this happen?”

“At least three hours ago, I reckon. Maybe toward four?” Emerson scratched his chin. “You two have been gone a long time.”

Though every muscle in his body ached to head directly to the warehouse district, Robert knew it would be far more prudent to ascertain as much information as possible before going off half-cocked. “Who has been searching for her?” he asked, hoping and praying the servant would give him a name and not a shrug.

Emerson's expression cleared. “Oh. Sheriff Kern is, Mr. Truax. The moment he heard about what happened, I heard he grabbed his pistol and went after them.”

Some relief filled him, but not enough. With a start, he realized he didn't trust anyone to protect Miranda other than himself. “Who else?”

“I don't know.” Emerson looked up at the sky as if he was attempting to pull the information out of thin air. “Maybe one of his deputies?” He frowned. “I have to tell ya, though, I'd almost rather Mrs. Markham be lost with Mr. Winter than ‘rescued' by one of Kern's men. They're a sorry lot, to be sure.”

Captain Monroe exchanged a glance with Robert. “What do you think? Do we have time to get our weapons?”

Though Robert was reluctant to spend one more minute simply standing and pondering, years of fighting made him cautious and able to see the benefits of thinking through the situation. “I don't think we have a choice, sir. If Winter shot Kelly, he's liable to shoot again.”

“Good point. Lead us to the quickest way back to the house, Emerson,” Captain Monroe ordered. “And be quick about it. We have no time to spare.”

“Yes, sir,” Emerson replied, then turned sharply to his right and picked up his pace, fairly running down a back alley, Robert and his captain on his heels.

As they ran, Robert left the rest of his thoughts unspoken. Mainly that if Winter shot Kelly, he might have also already injured Miranda. And that as soon as Winter met either him or Monroe face-to-face, he would be receiving his retribution. There was no way Ethan Kelly had survived Gettysburg and several months in a Yankee prisoner-of-war camp only to be bested by a disgruntled bank clerk with an ax to grind.

There was no way that was ever going to happen. Not if he could help it.

The moment they tore open the front door, Belle, Winnie, and Cook ran to meet them.

“Do you have her?” When the answer became obvious, Winnie sniffed. “Oh, where is she?”

“I don't know, but we're going to find her,” Robert said. “We came in only for our weapons.”

As he and Monroe rushed up the stairs, Belle followed. “Sirs, beg your pardon, but is it true about Major Kelly? Has he really been shot?”

Captain Monroe spared her only the briefest of glances. “That's what Emerson says. We haven't seen him.”

“I know you both are going to find Mrs. Markham, and I'm real glad of that. But . . . would you mind terribly if I went and sat with the major?”

“I think that is a fine idea,” Robert said as he reached into his knapsack, pulled out his Colt and a box of bullets, then began loading the revolver.

“Oh, I'm so glad. I would hate for him to be alone.”

“I would too,” he said as he raced back to the hall. Monroe was already trotting down the stairs. “Thank you, Belle.”

“Of course. Please, please go find Mrs. Markham.”

“I will find her tonight,” Robert promised. He didn't dare add that he was hoping and praying he would find her alive.

“You need me to do anything besides look after your major?”

“Pray,” Monroe called out as he swung open the door. “And, Belle?”

“Yes . . . yes, sir?”

“You tell that sawbones that Kelly keeps his leg,” he said fiercely. “You hear me?”

“Oh, yes, sir!” she called. “I'll make sure that happens. You can count on me.”

Robert hoped that really was the case, because it was now apparent that he was going to need to place his complete trust in her and Kern. And the Lord, of course.

He sincerely prayed that would be enough.