Margaret Brownley (28 page)

He stepped forward as if wanting to prolong the moment they shared, or maybe even comfort her. Instead he tugged on the brim of his hat.

“Soon,” he said. He glanced around before stepping off the boardwalk.

An hour later, Lucy walked up to the wooden door of the old mission. It wouldn’t budge, and she doubted that any amount of knocking on the heavy oak could be heard from inside.

She followed a broken brick path to the side of the mission, hoping to find another way in. David stepped out of the shadows, startling her.

He cupped her by the elbow, which only made her pulse throb. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He released her. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I almost didn’t,” she said truthfully.

He led her through an open door into a long narrow room with a high vaulted ceiling. The domed crossing at the far end above the altar established this as the sanctuary.

She followed him through another door into another large room. Though it was hot and muggy outside, the mission was cold and damp. A fire burned in the floor-to-ceiling fireplace. It added little warmth but it did provide a cheery note to the otherwise dreary surroundings.

A pinewood chair stood by the hearth. She ran her fingers along the wooden back. An outline of a wolf was so delicately carved on the splat that it looked like a natural part of the wood.

She glanced up at him. “Did you make this?”

He indicated a bag of carving tools on the floor. “I’m working on it,” he said. “I’m a cabinetmaker by trade. It should fetch a handsome amount for the church building, don’t you think?”

So Sarah was right; the church would be built by God-given talents. She ran her fingers along the back of the chair. She marveled that such large hands were capable of carving a design so delicate.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice filled with awe. It was similar to the wolf engraved on the bracelet he gave her, though larger and more detailed. “I’d love to photograph it, but Skip used up my last plate.” She doubted a photograph could capture the exquisite details.

“It’s not finished yet,” he said.

“I know. But there’s something intriguing, even suspenseful about unfinished work, don’t you think?” It left a question that begged to be answered. Like
The Canterbury Tales
or an unfinished symphony. She ran her fingers over the engraved animal. “Your name . . . Wolf . . . I used to think it suited you, but I don’t anymore.”

“Oh?” He looked surprised. “Why not?”

“Wolves run in packs,” she said.

“Except the ones that are ostracized and become lone wolves.” He pointed to the chair. “Go ahead, sit. It might be unfinished but it’s sturdy.”

She sat on the chair and he lowered himself upon the edge of the stone hearth. She’d been so enthralled with the wolf carving she’d momentarily forgotten the real reason she was here.

“What you said earlier . . .”

“It’s true. I had nothing to do with Barnes’s disappearance.” He watched her closely. “I hope you believe that.”

“I saw you. On the road. I called to you,” she said.

Hands clasped between his knees, he inhaled a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you. I saw him that night.”

In the light of the fire, his face looked open and revealing. It was the kind of look she had longed to capture on her father’s face with her camera but never could.

Fingering her locket, she studied him.

“You said I was a man of many secrets,” he continued. “That’s because I don’t know who to trust.”

His words resonated on so many levels. Was that why her father held on to his secrets? Because of lack of trust?

“I think I’ve more than earned your trust,” she said. She leaned forward. “Who are you, David? And why are you here? If you can’t trust me enough to answer those questions, then you can trust me with nothing.”

Something in his face changed. He had the faraway look of a man used to gazing across long distances. He took so long to answer that she almost gave up hope that he would. She started to rise but then he spoke and she promptly sat down again.

“I was left on the doorstep of this mission as a baby,” he said slowly.

She gasped. “Here?” She glanced around. It was hard to imagine anyone, especially a child, living in the cavernous rooms of the mission. “You were left here?”

He grinned. “I guess there are worse places I could have been left.”

“I didn’t mean that, I meant . . . do you know anything about your family? Your parents?”

He shook his head. “That information was left with me in a box.” He held his hands several inches apart to indicate its size. “The priests told me that I wasn’t allowed to look inside until I was eighteen.”

“What was in it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. The box was locked. All I know is that it was engraved with the head of a wolf.”

“Your name,” she said.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I reckon it’s as good a name as any. That’s why I came back to Rocky Creek. To find that box. My hope is that it will tell me something about my parents. About myself.”

“And you think it’s here somewhere. In this mission?”

He shook his head. “No, not here.” He glanced around. The large room with its clay tile floor and high-beamed ceiling made their voices echo. “There were about twelve of us boys living here. Some were Indians, some were white. Then there was me. I didn’t belong to either group. And the others never let me forget it. I was only ten when I decided to run away and find my parents. I was convinced that whatever was in that box would lead me to them.” He grinned sheepishly. “The problem was it was locked and I couldn’t get it open.”

“You were so young,” she said. Ten. The same age as Skip Owen. No wonder David was surprised to learn of the boy’s tender age. “What happened? Where did you go?”

“I didn’t get far when four older boys from the town cornered me. They wanted my box. When I refused to give it to them, they put me in a boat. They grabbed the box and sent me down the river toward the rapids.”

Dismayed by his ordeal she pressed her lips together. The rapids could be deadly even in the summer when the water was low and the boulders exposed. How could anyone be so cruel?

“No one has ever survived those rapids,” she said. “How . . . how did you escape?”

“Someone heard my screams. A cabinetmaker by the name of Malcolm Combes saved me before I reached the rapids. He happened to be traveling through the area.”

His eyes clouded with what she suspected were visions of the past. “The man took me home. He educated me and taught me the business. I learned to make furniture and cabinets. As I grew older, my Indian blood became more evident, so I was not allowed to serve customers.”

“That’s terrible,” she said.

“Combes didn’t have a choice. Don’t forget this was during the Indian wars.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. The conflict between the Texas plains Indians and settlers had ended only eight years earlier in 1874, but in many parts of Texas, the wounds were still raw, even today.

He chuckled. “That’s got to be a first.” He threw another log into the fire and poked at it with a stick until flames chased up the chimney.

Recalling the church fire and their brush with death, she shuddered. “Why now?” she asked. “What made you come back at this particular time?”

“Combes recently died. He was the closest I had to family.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He nodded. “Before he died he encouraged me to come back here. Whenever I got stuck on a problem—whether it was mathematics or construction—he always told me to go back to the beginning. That’s what I’m here to do.”

She tried putting the pieces together but there were still too many unanswered questions. “None of this explains why you were so anxious to find Barnes.”

He tossed the stick aside. “He helped put me in that boat. He was the leader.”

Her body stiffened in shock. “Barnes did that?” She never liked Barnes, but she couldn’t imagine him capable of such unbelievable cruelty. To think she had wanted to work for him!

David gave a curt nod of his head. “He and his friends. They took the box from me.”

Though the fire was warm she shivered. “You . . . you said there were four.”

He nodded. “I only know the names of two, Barnes and Doc Myers.”

“Doc—” Stunned, she was momentarily speechless. No, no, not Doc Myers. “You . . . you must be mistaken,” she said, when at last she could find her voice. “I’ve known the doctor all my life and he would never . . .” She shook her head, unable to believe such a thing possible.

“There’s no mistake,” David said, “I haven’t talked to him yet.”

“But you talked to Barnes.”

“Yes. I asked him what happened to the box but he denied knowing anything about it.”

“He may have been telling the truth. Twenty years is a long time. They may have thrown it away.”

David shook his head. “The contents, perhaps, but not the box. It was engraved with gold. They may have sold it, but I doubt they threw it away.”

It was a long shot, of course, but Lucy couldn’t blame him for trying to find it. “What if the box is lost forever?”

“Then I’ll never know what was inside. Or who left it with me. I may never know my real family name.”

Her heart ached for him. Family was extremely important to her and she couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be without.

“Barnes refused to name the other two, but I swear to you, I have no knowledge of Barnes’s whereabouts.”

She took a deep breath. She believed him, but in light of David’s accusations, she was no longer certain she could trust her instincts. Could she really have been that wrong about Doc Myers?

“What . . . do you plan to do?” she asked.

“I planned to approach Myers, but now that suspicion has been cast on me, I have to be even more careful than before.” He leaned forward, and his nearness made her pulse race. “That’s why I need your help.”

“I don’t know how I can help,” she said. Or maybe she just didn’t want to help.
Doc Myers?
She still couldn’t believe it.

“The boys who abducted me are probably now in their late thirties, early forties. You know everyone in town. Help me find the other two.”

“You only want to find the box they took from you, right?” she asked, and when he didn’t reply, she asked it of him again. “Right?”

“Do you understand what I’m telling you? They left me to die. It’s a miracle I survived. Yet Myers and Barnes went on to lead successful lives and have respected professions. I think it’s time the townsfolk know what kind of men they are.”

She pressed the palms of her hands together. “What they did to you . . . there’s no excuse. But they were young. And revenge will hurt you more than it will hurt them.”

“What would you have me do? Forgive and forget? Doc Myers is a pillar of the town. Barnes runs a newspaper. All I want to do is make Myers and the others face up to what they did.”

She swallowed hard. “Exposing them won’t restore your childhood.”

He rose to his feet. “That’s not what this is about.” He kneeled down on one knee and took her hands in his. “I fear one of the other three may have something to do with Barnes’s disappearance.”

“But . . . but that makes no sense,” she said. “Not after all this time.”

“Then why did he disappear the same night the two of us talked?” He paused for a moment. “Maybe he threatened to reveal their names.”

“Would it really matter after all this time?” she asked. “Now that they know you’re alive?”

“As far as I know Barnes is the only one who knows it. What if he tried to blackmail the others without telling them he saw me? He can’t be making much money with the newspaper. Maybe he saw this as an opportunity to line his pockets.”

She hadn’t thought of that possibility, but she wouldn’t put it past Barnes to do such a thing.

“So will you help me?”

She pulled her hands from his and grasped her locket as she tended to do whenever faced with a dilemma. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t want to help him—she was afraid to help him. Afraid of what she would find. It was hard enough knowing that Myers and Barnes had left a child to die. But who else? She closed her eyes.
Dear God, who else?