Undercover Bride (30 page)

The memory of attending church with Garrett and the children felt like another knife to the heart. “Did you know he had a bad experience with the church when he was in Andersonville prison?”

He nodded. “I did know that.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Funny thing about a war. It almost always changes a man’s faith. Sometimes for the good, but not always.” He tilted the can over a cluster of yellow flowers, and water poured from its spout. “Never met a lady detective before.” He looked up. “It seems that you and I are in a similar business.”

“How so?”

“The Bible is filled with mystery, and it’s up to me to help my flock unravel the clues. I guess that makes me a detective of sorts.”

“Never thought about it that way.”

He shrugged. “Considering the nature of human beings, the biggest mystery is why God loves us so much.”

“I often wonder that myself,” she said. The kindly minister at the orphanage had told her that God even loved her father. She didn’t believe it then, and she wasn’t certain she believed it now. Why would God love a man so hateful when she, his daughter, could not?

“Why is God so mysterious?” she asked.

“I’ll answer that question with another.” He moved over to water a scruffy-looking shrub with silvery leaves. “What do you do after you solve a crime and all the questions have been answered to your satisfaction?”

“Do?” She frowned. “I close the file and go on to the next case.”

“You see? That’s just it. If there were no mysteries in the Bible, we would close the book and go on to something else. Mysteries require answers, and that’s what keeps us searching. God loves a seeker, and if we’re diligent enough, He sometimes even rewards us with insight and understanding.”

Maggie flushed with guilt. She read her Bible faithfully but never really studied it, not like she studied her cases.

He set the watering can on a tree stump. “So tell me, what are you seeking today?”

“Help,” she said. “I’m seeking help.” She explained the problem as quickly as possible.

Reverend Holly shook his head. “A lynch mob, you say?”

She nodded. “Yes, and we need people willing to stand guard at night. Do you think the church members will help?”

“Miracles have been known to happen around here.” His wink told her that he knew more than he’d let on about Toby and the moving cross. “Who knows?” He chuckled. “Maybe we’re in store for another.”

T
he morning routine at the jailhouse never varied. Sheriff Summerhay was a man of habit. He greeted his prisoners each day with a surly “Good mornin’,” then sat at his desk, lit his stogie, and settled down to read the newspaper.

Someone from the hotel delivered breakfast, and the coffee was consistently weak, the eggs watery, and the bacon tasted like leather. It didn’t matter. Garrett had tasted worse; a lot worse. At least he wasn’t required to fight off vermin like he did at Andersonville.

After breakfast the sheriff walked over to the cell as usual and ordered Garrett to sit on the cot with his hands in front of him. The trial didn’t begin till nine, but the sheriff always walked him to court early, before the town awoke. An empty street made it easier to secure his prisoner.

The sheriff snapped a pair of handcuffs on Garrett’s wrists.

Garrett stared at the manacles, and his mind traveled back in time. All those months he’d been held captive in Andersonville, never once had he given up hope. Not even on the darkest of nights or grimmest of days. The determination to survive had burned in his chest like a torch.

Today, it burned like acid.

Somehow he had to prove his innocence. For Toby’s sake; for Elise’s. His children had lost their mother, and that had been tough enough. But to lose their father, too?
God, don’t let that happen.

Maggie believed him, and that helped more than words could say. Yes, she’d lied to him. Yes, she’d forced herself into his house under false pretenses and had taken advantage of his trust.

Logically he understood it was her job, but the less rational part of him could never forgive the lies and deception. Still, she had made him the happiest man alive—at least for a short while.

After Katherine died, he never thought he’d smile again, let alone love. Losing a loved one was the worst possible torture. He had never wanted to be that vulnerable again; to feel that much grief. That’s why a mail-order bride had sounded like the perfect solution. The idea of picking out a wife based on certain requirements appealed to him.

All he’d wanted was someone to care for his children. That’s all. Until meeting Maggie in person, he was willing to consider suggesting a marriage in name only, if that’s what the lady wanted. But one look into those big blue eyes of hers and he was hooked.

Not only did she steal her way into his home but also his heart. And there wasn’t a blasted thing he could do about it.

He shook his head in disgust. In the name of Sam Hill, what was he doing? Dwelling on his feelings for Maggie was of no help. His testimony. That’s what he needed to think about. Somehow he had to convince the jury he really was an innocent man.

God, what a mess! What must be going through Elise’s and Toby’s heads? He trusted Aunt Hetty to be tactful, but children always knew more than adults gave them credit for.

How could this have happened? Was Katherine involved in the train robbery? Katherine, the mother of his children? It wasn’t hard to imagine her brother was involved, but not Katherine. True, she was anxious to leave the Territory; it was the one area they disagreed on, the one flaw in their marriage. But that didn’t mean she was guilty of anything other than wanting a better education for her children.

And perhaps even a misguided attempt to help her brother.

The sheriff nudged him, pulling him out of his reverie. “Time to get a move on. Don’t want to be late.”

Outside, the sun was just rising over the distant mountains, and it took a full moment on the porch for Garrett’s eyes to adjust to the light. It was a two-block walk to the courthouse, but today something was different. Instead of the usual deserted street, a dozen or more people were gathered outside the sheriff’s office.

He recognized most all of them. Even Wayne Peterson had turned up for his walk of shame. No doubt Peterson was enjoying the sight of him in handcuffs. Just like the rest of them—including those he thought were his friends.

Some, like Peter Fann, had purchased tinware from him. Others had been at church the day he attended with Maggie. A few were at the dance, and one he hadn’t seen since Katherine’s funeral.

His mind skipped backward to the day he was led to Andersonville as a prisoner of war. The jeering crowd called the prisoners vile names and flung mud and worse at them.

He shook the memory away, but the bitterness remained. “Come to see a condemned man, did they?” he muttered.

The sheriff gave him a look of disgust. “You should be thanking these people.”

“Thanking them? For what? Making a spectacle out of me?”

“For trying to save your life.”

Garrett frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“These are all members of the church. They stood guard all night to make sure that no one tied a bow around your sorry neck before it’s time.”

Garrett was stunned. “They… they did that?” Even Peterson? He couldn’t believe it. All these years he had harbored ill feelings toward the church for its neglect of Andersonville prisoners. And now this?

“
You were the enemy,
” Maggie had said when he tried to explain his aversion to the church.

But he was the enemy here, too. What else would you call a suspected killer and thief? Yet, here they were: the very church people he had accused of lacking Christian values based on experiences of that awful war. Here they were protecting him and probably even praying for him.

Never had he felt more… what? Grateful? Humbled? Overwhelmed? He was all those things and so much more.

Moisture filled his eyes. He’d failed as a husband, a Christian, a friend, and even a soldier. Yet with all his shortcomings and flaws, he’d expected perfection from the church. Perfection from others… Odd as it seemed, it felt like someone reached inside him and pulled out all the anger, bitterness, and rage that had resided there for far too long.

He raised his face to the clear blue sky. It had been a long time since he’d felt God’s love, but he felt it now, and it burned brighter than the sun.

The sheriff held him by the arm as they walked down the steps. The church people moved back to give them room.

No one said a word as he walked by, and only a few acknowledged his nod of thanks with nods of their own. Peterson showed no response, but it didn’t matter. His being there was enough.

Instead of turning away from him as he had turned away from his church, all had put his safety and well-being above any personal feelings. That was more than he deserved, and by God, he intended to make it up to them.

Aunt Hetty lowered her needlework and gazed up at Maggie. “Why all these questions about Charlie Cotton?” She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you didn’t want to work on Garrett’s case.”

“I’m just tying up loose ends.” Maggie didn’t want to raise Aunt Hetty’s hopes. “We have reason to believe that Cotton knew about the satchel of money.” She kept her voice low. It was just the two of them in Aunt Hetty’s cramped parlor, but the children were only a short distance away in the kitchen.

Aunt Hetty’s eyes widened. “You think
he
put the money in the tree house?”

“Not Cotton. Katherine.”

This time Aunt Hetty dropped her needlework altogether. “Are you saying
she
stole the money?”

“No, but I think her brother asked her to keep the satchel for him. She may not have known what was in it at first. When she found out, she hid it.”

The lines in Aunt Hetty’s face deepened. “But why hide it in the tree house?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want Garrett to find it. Or maybe she was afraid that her brother would search the house.”

Aunt Hetty gave her a knowing look. “You really care for him, don’t you?”

“What?”

“For Garrett. You care for him.”

Maggie opened her mouth in denial but knew it would be no use. The harder she fought her feelings for Garrett, the more they persisted.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’d have to be blind to miss the way you look at him.” After a moment she added, “He cares for you, too. You know that, don’t you?”

Maggie shook her head. “He’ll never forgive me for deceiving him.”

Aunt Hetty scoffed. “You’d be amazed what people can forgive if they put their minds to it. I even forgive that no-good, two-timing husband of mine,” she said, sounding anything but forgiving. Belatedly, she added, “May his soul rest in peace.”

Maggie bit her lower lip. There it was again, that old bugaboo: forgiveness
. Okay, God, I get it. I get what You’re trying to teach me. If only it wasn’t so hard.

Aunt Hetty’s shoulders drooped, and she suddenly looked her age. “Garrett’s a good man. I don’t mean any disrespect to my poor dead sister, but I always thought of him as my son. I never was able to have children of my own. I don’t know what I’d do if—”

Maggie reached for Aunt Hetty’s hand. “We have to think positive and pray that the truth will come out.”

The sound of Elise’s voice drew her attention to the kitchen. “I need to talk to the children. It’s important. They might know something that will help their father.” The chances were slim, but she didn’t know where else to turn.

“I hope you’re right.” Aunt Hetty set her needlework on the table. Placing her hand on her back, she rose slowly from her seat and reached for her cane.