Undercover Bride (11 page)

“All right. But don’t be long.”

The two children ran along the boardwalk toward the dressmaker’s shop.

Shaking her head fondly, she glanced up and down the street. Rikker was nowhere in sight, though his bright-colored medicine wagon was still parked near the hotel.

Toby and Elise returned smelling of peppermint just as Panhandle and Garrett walked out of the shop together.

Panhandle regarded Toby. Even though it was a warm day he still wore his funny cap, the rawhide ties hanging loose. “Hello, Aloysius Pepperpot,” he said and turned to Elise. “And you, young lady, must be Penelope Peachpit.”

Elise giggled. “I told you my name is Elise.” Apparently this was a standing joke between them. “And that’s Toby.”

“Ah, Toby. How could I forget?” Panhandle said, looking straight at Maggie. “Nice to see you again, Miss Taylor.”

“Nice seeing you, too,” Maggie said. She slid over and, taking the hint, Garrett heaved himself up to the driver’s seat.

“I shouldn’t be any longer than a couple of hours,” he said, taking hold of the reins.

“Take as long as you want.” Panhandle backed away from the buckboard.

“Gid-up!” Garrett called, and the rig rolled forward.

Maggie eyed Garrett’s profile, their interrupted conversation very much on her mind. What did he mean when he said Katherine’s death wasn’t an accident?

“How come Mr. Panhandle always wears that funny hat?” Elise asked from the backseat.

“He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s bald,” Toby said.

“When I’m bald I’m not wearing a hat like that,” Elise said.

“Girls don’t get bald, silly,” Toby said, his tone edged with brotherly exasperation.

“Are you going to be bald, Papa?” Elise asked.

“Maybe.” Garrett said, his eyes warm with humor. “You know what they say? Hair today, gone tomorrow.”

Maggie laughed. She couldn’t help it. At that moment it was difficult to believe him guilty of anything but an all-too-intriguing smile—and some very bad jokes.

It didn’t seem possible to find water in that dry desert land, but after an hour’s drive Garrett pointed to a river that cut through an outcrop of red rock and wound its way between two ribbons of sand.

Overhead the sky was azure blue and the air crystal clear.

“That’s the Gila River,” Garrett said. “Flows all the way to the Colorado.” He pulled on Patches’s reins and set the brake. “Caught me a four-pound squawfish awhile back. Tasted almost as good as salmon.”

He looked relaxed, and Maggie was hopeful that they could pick up their earlier conversation.

Toby and Elise jumped out of the wagon with whoops and hollers. Leaving their shoes and stockings scattered on the sand, they ran toward the water’s edge.

“Watch for snakes,” she called after them.

Garrett lifted the picnic basket from the back of the wagon, and she reached for the blanket.

“You’re beginning to sound like their mother,” he said.

Not sure how to take his comment, she quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take Katherine’s place.” Though she had to admit the thought of being a wife and mother held a surprising appeal. A foolish notion at best. She’d seen too many broken families to think that domestic bliss was possible, given her profession.

“I meant it as a compliment,” he said. “The mother part I mean.”

She drew in her breath. “Oh. I thought—”

“Papa! Hurry!”

He waved at Elise. “Coming.” He waited for Maggie to spread the blanket on the sand in a spot of shade cast by a boulder. After setting the basket down, he pulled off his boots and rolled up his trouser legs. Growling like a bear, he dashed after the children.

Elise and Toby screamed at the top of their lungs with feigned terror and splashed him with water.

Maggie gathered the children’s shoes and stockings and arranged them neatly next to Garrett’s boots. Watching the three of them romp in the water, laughing together, filled her with mixed feelings. Never had she seen a man enjoy his children more than Garrett.

Their early morning conversation streamed through her head for perhaps the hundredth time. “
He doesn’t believe her death was an accident.
”

If not an accident, what did his brother-in-law think it was?

Garrett was thoroughly soaked by the time he joined her. She tossed him a towel, and he wiped himself dry and plopped down on the blanket next to her.

“I’m famished.”

“I’m sorry I burned your breakfast,” she said, hoping he would take the hint and finish where he’d left off that morning before they were so rudely interrupted.

He wiped his face dry and draped the towel around his neck. His mussed hair gave him a boyish look that did nothing for her peace of mind.

“No need to apologize. It was my fault,” he said.

She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she reached for the picnic basket and pulled out slices of roast beef left over from last night’s supper.

It probably wasn’t wise to wheedle a confession from him there, in the middle of nowhere. Anything could happen, and the last thing she wanted was to pull out her gun, especially with the children present. Still, a detective had to make the best of every opportunity, no matter how small.

As if to fill the gap between them, she spread plates of cheese, bread, and wild strawberries across the blanket. She then poured lemonade into two tin cups.

He picked up a fork and stabbed a slice of roast beef.

The roast beef had been cooked exactly as he liked it, with just a hint of pink in the center. Thank God for Mrs. Crowen and her
American Lady’s Cookery Book.

The little ways Maggie had come to know him struck her as odd. Not since leaving the orphanage had she known another person’s likes and dislikes to such an extent.

She knew Garrett preferred his eggs over easy, his bacon burned to a crisp, and his coffee hot and strong. His preferences came to mind so easily she was momentarily struck by surprise.

That’s not all she knew. He liked two lumps of sugar in his coffee—and on some days even more—and salted his food as freely as a farmer scattered seed. He had trouble sleeping and often paced the floor between one and three in the morning. In little less than a week, his habits were almost second nature to her.

What she didn’t know was how to reconcile this loving parent and talented craftsman with the outlaw written up in the Pinkerton report.

As if sensing her gaze on him, he looked up and frowned. “I guess you’re wondering about this morning.”

That was putting it mildly. “You can’t drop a cannonball like that and expect me not to wonder.”

“I apologize.” He stabbed another piece of meat. “I don’t know why Katherine left the house that night.”

She studied his profile. “You said it was your fault.”

A look of resignation crossed his face. “Earlier that day we’d argued. Katherine never liked Arizona. That night she told me she was going back to Philadelphia with or without me and taking the children with her. That would have meant giving up my business and starting over. It also meant leaving Aunt Hetty here without family to watch over her. I didn’t want to do that, and I told Katherine as much. We argued, and she slept in the parlor.”

His voice grew hoarse. “Had she been in our bed that night, things might have turned out different.”

“You mean she might not have gone outside?”

His face was fraught with pain. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“But why did she? Your aunt said there was a storm.” Supposedly it wasn’t a night for man or beast. It didn’t seem likely that she’d leave the house in such weather to meet someone, even a lover.

“I don’t know why. I’ve gone over that night a million times, and I still can’t come up with an answer that makes sense.”

He sounded sincere, and she believed him. He might be a thief and murderer, but he was also a grieving husband, and that’s the man she reached out to comfort. She laid her hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to bring it all back.”

“You have a right to know what happened that night.” He squeezed her hand. “I wish I knew myself.” His gaze traveled to the distant horizon as if looking back in time.

“There was another reason I didn’t want to leave Arizona. A selfish reason. I spent a brutally cold winter in Andersonville, and hundreds of men froze to death.” His jaw tightened, and she heard his intake of breath. “I never wanted to see another winter like that. Never again wanted to know that kind of cold.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Like I said. Selfish.”

“I don’t think it’s selfish at all.” She shuddered at the thought of men freezing to death. No war could justify such inhumanity. “Did Katherine know how you felt about the cold?”

He shook his head. “She never liked me to talk about the war.”

The silence that followed was broken by Elise’s excited voice. “Miss Taylor. Over here!”

Maggie drew her hand away from his arm and waved. “I’ll be right there,” she called back. She turned to Garrett. “Anything else I should know?” she asked.
Like what you did with all that money?

“Only that you better watch your step.” Just like that the darkness left his face, and he grinned like a schoolboy. “Toby and Elise are about to get you wet.”

A
lready it was hot that Sunday morning as she pulled the buckboard behind the long row of wagons parked near the Furnace Creek Community Church.

Despite his negative opinion of organized religion, Garrett didn’t object to her taking the children to Sunday worship, but neither did he offer to join them.

Elise, as usual, was full of questions. “If God is everywhere, why do we have to come to church?”

“It’s easier for God to keep track of us if we’re all together,” Toby said.

Maggie smiled. It seemed the boy had an answer for everything. “Worshipping with others also helps us grow stronger in our faith. Just like spending time together makes a family strong.” That last thought caught her off-balance. Since when had she become an expert on families?

She set the brake and straightened her hat. “Come along, children.”

Church bells began to ring and a raven flew out of the bell tower, squawking in protest. With a child on either side, she walked up the graveled path to the carved wooden doors. People greeted them warmly as they threaded their way down the center aisle to the empty pew in the middle row. Sun streamed through the stained glass windows, bathing the giant cross in front with bright rays of light.

The church was packed and only a few empty pews remained. Mrs. Higginbottom and her friends waved from across the aisle, and Maggie acknowledged them with a smile.

“There’s Aunty,” Elise said, pointing to a front pew occupied by Aunt Hetty and several other women.

“Shh. You can talk to her after the service.”

No sooner had they settled into their seats than the choir director turned to the congregation. “Please stand and turn to page one fifty.”

Maggie reached for the hymnal and flipped through until she found the right page. Standing, she held the book so the children could follow along. The organ ground out a few mournful chords, and the choir director turned to the choral group, arms raised. Right on cue, voices lifted in song.

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in thee…”

For once Toby stood perfectly still. He seemed mesmerized by the choir and never took his eyes away from the altar. Today he looked more like his father than ever. For once his shirt was tucked into his waistband. His hair fell neatly from a side part, except for the cowlick that resisted all efforts to tame it.

Elise coughed, and Maggie reached into her drawstring purse for a piece of hard candy. Elise woke her up coughing last night, but she seemed perfectly all right this morning.

“Here, suck on this.”

The last chords echoed away and the congregation was told to sit.

Reverend Holly took his place behind the pulpit. Today he was dressed in a black robe that afforded him a commanding presence that his short stature otherwise failed to provide.

“Let us pray.”

The reverend didn’t lack for words. On and on he went, asking for God’s help with every possible affliction known to humankind—or at least known to Aunt Hetty.

Elise tugged on her arm and whispered something. “Shh,” Maggie hushed. “Tell me later.”

“Amen,” the minister said at last, and a collective sigh rippled through the sanctuary.

The moment Maggie opened her eyes she noticed the empty pew next to Elise. “Where’s your brother?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” Elise looked up with a worried frown. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

Maggie gave her a loving pat on the leg. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll return any minute.” Despite her confident tone, she shot an anxious glance to the back of the church, craning her neck to see around the tall feathered hats blocking her view. The doors were closed and an usher stood on either side.

Toby had probably left to use the facilities. No reason for alarm. Still, she worried. Garrett trusted her with his children’s care, and she felt responsible for their well-being.