Untethered (36 page)

“What’s what, honey?” Mrs. Maloney responded, feigning ignorance.

“Somethin’ just crossed your mind, takin’ the wind right out of your sails. What was it?”

“Oh…oh, nothin’,” Maymee fibbed, trying to weasel out of telling Cricket what her thought had been.

“Tell me!” Cricket demanded. “Tell me, or I’ll howl at you all day like a hound with a treed raccoon.”

Maymee paused—seemed thoughtful for a moment. “I’m…I’m just not sure I should tell you what I’m thinkin’,” the old woman admitted.

“Well, why ever not?” Cricket asked. “You can tell me anything…and you should tell me if it’s somethin’ that’s worryin’ you…or somethin’ you think I should know.”

Mrs. Maloney nodded, sighed, and smiled. “You’re right, honey. You’re right. So I’ll just ask you straight out…are you in love with Heathro Thibodaux? Or just awful, awful sweet on him?”

Cricket’s eyebrows arched with surprise. She certainly hadn’t expected such a serious, forthright question from her normally playful friend.

“You’re askin’ me to confide my greatest secret to you, Mrs. Maloney,” Cricket whispered. “I-I…”

“I just want to be sure there isn’t anything on this whole green earth that could take your heart from him, that’s all,” Maymee explained.

“There isn’t,” Cricket stated firmly. “Nothin’.”

Mrs. Maloney sighed with relief, smiled, and patted Cricket on one knee. “Let’s me and you head on into the kitchen for piece of cake and the exchange of a couple more secrets, shall we?”

Cricket smiled and frowned at the same time. Mrs. Maloney wasn’t normally so cryptic—sneaky and mischievous, but not cryptic.

“Certainly,” Cricket said, rising from her chair as Mrs. Maloney rose from hers.

“Isn’t it just the loveliest day, Magnolia?” she asked as she preceded Cricket into the house.

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” Cricket agreed as she closed the door behind them.

Once Mrs. Maloney had cut them each a piece of cake, she and Cricket settled down at her kitchen table.

Handing Cricket a fork, Maymee asked, “Have you ever heard the tale of the pied piper of Hamelin, Magnolia honey?”

“Of course,” Cricket answered—though she couldn’t imagine what in all the world the old tale about rats and a flutist had to do with the price of potatoes up north.

“And what do you remember about it?”

Cricket shrugged. “There’s a town infested with rats…”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Mrs. Maloney encouraged with a nod. She placed a bite of cake in her mouth, rolling her eyes and sighing with sugar-pleasure.

“And the folks in town can’t stand it any longer, so they offer a bag of money to anyone who can get rid of all the rats,” Cricket continued.

“And then…” Maymee prodded.

Cricket giggled a little, amused by Mrs. Maloney’s random subject of conversation. “And then this man comes along, all dress in patched-up clothes, and he plays the flute…and he tells the townsfolk that he will get rid of the rats if they truly will give him the bag of money.”

“Go on.”

“All right,” Cricket said. “But why am I tellin’ you this story in the first place?”

“Because I asked you if you were familiar with it.”

It wasn’t really an explanation; it was a weasel move on Mrs. Maloney’s part. Still, if nothing else, Cricket’s curiosity was piqued.

Thus, she continued, “So then a man comes to the town—Hamelin, that’s the town. This man comes dressed in pied clothing, and he plays a flute. And he tells the townsfolk that he will rid them of the rats if they will give him the bag of money.”

“And what happens next?” Mrs. Maloney asked.

Cricket shrugged. “The townsfolk agree…and the piper plays his flute, and all the rats follow him out of the town and to a river. As he continues to play his flute, the rats all jump in the river and drown…and the town is finally free of the rats.”

“But when the piper returns for his reward…” Maymee urged.

“Oh, well, that’s the terrible part,” Cricket exclaimed. “Not that rats drownin’ in a river isn’t terrible—not that rats on any occasion isn’t terrible. But the most terrible part of the story is that the selfish townsfolk do not give the piper the money they promised! They entirely deny him his reward.” Cricket sighed with disapproval.

“What then?”

Cricket took a bite of her cake, smiling as sugar-pleasure flooded her mouth. She swallowed her sweet cake and answered, “Well, the piper feels that the townsfolk are dishonest and not to be trusted. He tells them that he pities their children, for they will grow up to be like their parents…dishonest, lacking integrity, and the like. So one day, while everyone is at church services, the piper returns…and he plays his flute again. And this time the
children
of Hamelin follow the piper, and he leads them away to a glorious paradise where they are happy forever. And though the adults of Hamelin send messengers far and wide to find the mysterious piper—to beg him to bring their children home—he and the children are never found.”

“And the moral of the tale is…” Mrs. Maloney urged.

“Always keep a promise…no matter what. Show integrity in the keeping of a promise,” Cricket answered, feeling rather proud of herself for knowing the answer. She’d detested the story as a child—found it frightening and sad. But now, even though she still found it frightening and sad, she could see the lesson for its great value.

“Yes. Yes, that is the moral of the story, I suppose,” Mrs. Maloney sighed.

Cricket felt her brow wrinkle with inquisitiveness. “Is there more to it then? Somethin’ I’m not understandin’?”

Mrs. Maloney nodded, taking another bite of cake and then answering, “I believe so. In fact, I’ve always thought so, and I think you and I are about to witness the less obvious aspect that story portrays. It’s the part that plum disgusts me too.”

“What part is that?” Cricket asked, frowning. After all, wasn’t the story grim enough with just the one moral to be learned?

“It’s what I’m startin’ to see in Pike’s Creek where your handsome lover, Heath, is concerned, darlin’. It’s the same as in the story.” She smiled and sighed as she glanced out the window as if remembering the past. “Oh, he was this town’s hero, wasn’t he?” she breathed. “Handsome with broodin’ manner and the tortured soul of a hero. And then what happens? He risks his everything, includin’ his life, to go after you girls all on his own.” Mrs. Maloney looked back to Cricket, offered a firm nod, and said, “And he saved you—saved your virtue, saved your lives—and everyone in Pike’s Creek felt forever indebted to him for his sacrifices and for bringin’ our girls home.” Maymee breathed a heavy sigh then—a sigh of disappointment in the least.

Suddenly, Cricket understood what part of the pied piper of Hamelin Mrs. Maloney was referring to, and she frowned as anger began to bubble in her bosom.

“Just like when the pied piper piped away those rats,” Maymee Maloney continued. “Land sakes didn’t this town love Heathro Thibodaux when you girls came ridin’ in all livin’ and unspoiled!” She slapped her knee with enthusiasm at the memory. “Yes sirree! There he was…all beat up, shot up, bloodied, tired, worn to the bone…our hero! He’d saved you girls from bein’ sold to a brothel in
New Orleans
, saved you from death and things worse than dyin’…and, boy oh boy, did everyone love him!” She paused, slumped back in her rocker, and sighed. “For near to two weeks…and now…”

When Mrs. Maloney paused again, Cricket placed a hand on her knee and asked, “And now?”

The wise woman nodded and continued, “And now, some of the men in this town—the righteous Reverend Edgar Stanley, for one—have started seein’ their own weaknesses. They most likely got tired of hearin’ their wives go on and on and on, forever and a day on and on, about the magnificent, handsome, young, and strong Texas Ranger who had saved our girls’ lives.”

Cricket’s stomach began to churn with anxiety as complete understanding seeped into her very soul.

“Yes, Heathro Thibodaux had brung you all home,” Mrs. Maloney continued. She shrugged and frowned. “But it wasn’t anything that any other man couldn’t have done by himself—not if Heathro hadn’t been the first to think of headin’ out toward
New Orleans
,” she said, the sarcasm thickening in her voice. “Why…he should’ve fired a shot, miles down the river when he found those tracks. If he had, well, surely every other man from town that was ten miles in the opposite direction would’ve heard the shot, known exactly what it meant, and headed out straight away to assist him.” And Mrs. Maloney wasn’t finished venting her angry disgust yet. “Why, if Heathro Thibodaux had taken the time to let all the other men in the posse know he’d found those tracks and was hot on the trail…” She forced her expression into one of feigned astonishment and continued, “Then of
course
every other man would’ve hung his pride out to dry for bein’ wrong and followed Heathro in the right direction.” Mrs. Maloney nodded emphatically—with such substantial sarcasm apparent in her demeanor that Cricket almost laughed out loud. “And heaven knows that if Heathro had turned around and taken the hours upon hours it would’ve meant to track the posse down and then so
easily
convince them he was right about those men takin’ you all to
New Orleans
to sell instead of to
Mexico
…well, pfff! Of
course
all those hours, maybe a whole day long, wouldn’t have made a bit of difference in your safety and well-bein’. Why, the men in this town are all so noble and such
fantastic
horsemen, they could’ve easily made up that day Heathro would’ve lost.”

Cricket expected that Maymee was about to start spewing fire and smoke from her ears! The woman was angry—entirely worked up—but not any more worked up than Cricket was.

“And when it comes to what that boy had to do to get you girls free,” Mrs. Maloney began once more, “well…I’m
sure
the men of this town could’ve just waltzed right in there, shot all ten of them outlaws square between the eyes, and give you girls just the most comfortable escort back to Pike’s Creek that any Texas Ranger ever saw.” She paused, shook her head, and wagged an angry index finger. “And that’s exactly how some of the people in this town are like the people of Hamelin. They’ve got no lingerin’ appreciation or understandin’ of what Heathro did for all of us…especially you girls and your families. They’ve got no lingerin’ care for his injuries or the fact that he has to live the rest of his life with the memory of that poor snake-bit girl he was too late to save…with the visions that’ll stay in that man’s mind forever of havin’ to kill ten more men.”

Cricket felt her eyes narrow. “Do you really think that what Reverend Righteous and some of the other folks in Pike’s Creek think of Heath…do you really it would change the way I feel for him?”

Mrs. Maloney smiled. “Absolutely not, darlin’. I just want you to be prepared for any unkind word you might hear against that honorable young man of yours.”

“I wish he were mine,” Cricket mumbled, smiling as she thought of his kisses. “I wish I were his.”

“Well, it looks to me as though he’s been kissin’ you like you’re his,” Maymee giggled with a wink.

Cricket blushed. “I-I probably shouldn’t let him kiss me the way I do…or kiss him back the way I do.”

Mrs. Maloney scowled, exclaiming, “Why the hell not? He’s a good-lookin’ man! I doubt any woman would be able to resist him…even if she wasn’t in love with him.” She enjoyed another bite of cake, sighed, and smiling added, “I wouldn’t be able to resist.” Pointing her fork at Cricket, she added, “And I wouldn’t want to anyhow.”

Cricket smiled, relaxing a bit and allowing her anger to subside. She was determined to enjoy the rest of her visit with Mrs. Maloney—determined not to let Reverend Righteous, and anybody else in Pike’s Creek who might be resenting Heath’s heroics, ruin her lovely day. After all, she’d spent more than three hours in Heath’s arms the night before, and the bliss of it was still fresh enough to overpower any harsh feelings Mrs. Maloney’s warning may have triggered.

“Now, tell me, Magnolia,” Mrs. Maloney began. She smiled—a wildly naughty smile—and asked, “Does that boy taste as good as he looks?”

Cricket laughed, blushed, and whispered, “Even better!”

Boots in hand, Cricket hurried down the steps of Mrs. Maloney’s back porch. She didn’t want to disappoint
Ada
by being late getting home. The blackberries couldn’t wait forever.

“And where are you off to in such a hurry, Miss Blossom Bottom?”

The sound of Heath’s voice simultaneously startled and delighted Cricket. She turned to the most immeasurable desire and delight of her heart, leaning on one shoulder against the back wall of Mrs. Maloney’s house.

“What’re you doin’ here, Mr. Thibodaux?” she asked. She could feel her heart swelling inside her bosom—knew that the smile on her face was as broad as the sky was wide.

“Oh, I just drop in to check on Maymee once in a while,” he said, striding toward her. “She feeds me cake, and we talk awhile. I think she likes the company.”

Cricket’s eyes widened. “Are
you
Nobody MacGee, Heath?” she asked. Suddenly she wondered whether the Mr. Nobody MacGee Mrs. Maloney claimed was just a pretend friend was actually Heathro Thibodaux—though she knew Maymee must be exaggerating when it came to the sparking she and Nobody did if he were.