Undercover Bride (10 page)

“Do you know what they argued about?” Maggie asked.

“No, but I’ve known him since he was a wee lad, and he wasn’t the same after the war. He was much more serious, if you know what I mean. Hardly ever smiled.”

No surprises there. After reading the horrors in Garrett’s notebook, Maggie could well understand why. “He smiles now,” she said. Time healed some wounds, but not all.

“Not like he used to as a young lad. As for Katherine, she never really fit in, if you know what I mean. She never liked it here. Said it was too hot and uncivilized.”

“Is that what they argued about?”

“I’m not really sure what their last argument was about, but some think she was seeing someone else.”

Maggie frowned. “You mean like another man?”

Mrs. Button nodded. “I never believed it, of course. On the other hand, it would explain what she was doing out in the middle of the night, wouldn’t it?”

Maggie had considered every possible explanation she could think of for Katherine going out during a storm—but a romantic rendezvous? That one never entered her head. If the rumors were true, the question was, did Garrett know?

He did seem rather protective of her the day she visited his shop. Did that mean he had a jealous streak? Jealousy as a motive for murder dated back to Cain and Abel and caused half of all domestic crimes on Pinkerton files, so the idea wasn’t all that far-fetched.

The bells on the door announced the arrival of another client; a young mother with an infant in her arms needed a dress tailored to fit her new shape.

“I won’t take up any more of your time.” Maggie thanked Mrs. Button and motioned to the children. “Come along.”

No sooner had Maggie and the children left the shop when they encountered a barefooted man in ragged trousers and dirty shirt sitting on the boardwalk. He sat with his back against the building, his face half hidden by a salt-and-pepper beard. Long, unkempt hair fell from beneath a brown slouch cap.

“Can you afford a pittance, miss?”

She recognized the voice at once. Rikker!

The man never failed to amaze her. Successful disguises involved far more than just appearances. They required the right attitude and demeanor, and Rikker had perfected both to a fine art. She reached into her purse for a coin and leaned over to hand it to him.

“What happened to the quack doctor ruse?” she whispered.

“That’s my morning job,” he whispered back. “Your fiancé mails a letter every other day or so on the way to work. Find out who he’s writing to.” Louder, he said, “Thank you, ma’am, and may God bless you and your young’uns.”

A man with a cane tossed a coin in Rikker’s hat as he walked by. Rikker pocketed the money and winked. He was obviously enjoying himself. With a fond smile, she hustled the children away.

“How come you gave that man money?” Elise asked after settling on the front seat of the buckboard.

“’Cause he’s a beggar,” Toby said, climbing in back.

Elise peered up at Maggie from beneath the brim of her sunbonnet. “What’s a beggar?”

“A begger is a person who has fallen on hard times. And the reason I gave him money is because God wants us to help those in need.”

Elise thought about this for a moment before asking, “Why doesn’t God help them Himself?”

Maggie grabbed the reins and released the brake. “Because God doesn’t want to keep the fun of helping others all to Himself.”

T
he following morning, Maggie stopped at Grover’s Mercantile and purchased several yards of pretty floral calico. Since she’d made an issue about measuring windows, Garrett might think it strange if he didn’t see new curtains in the works.

She then hurried home, intent on tackling the attic. Garrett’s house was unusual for it was one of the few houses in the area with a second floor.

The attic had a single window for ventilation. The thick cover of fine sand told her that no one had been in the attic for months, maybe even years. The chances of finding the missing money up there seemed remote.

Still, she did a thorough search. All she found was a treadle sewing machine and a couple of old trunks filled with women’s clothing. Katherine’s, no doubt.

Maggie had never paid much attention to fashion, but it was hard not to be impressed with the quality of the gowns and hats. Most of the outfits were dated, favoring the straight sheaths and draped skirts of the seventies, but all were well tailored.

She was so intrigued with the colorful finery that she almost missed the envelope at the bottom of one of the trunks. It was addressed to Katherine’s brother but wasn’t stamped. It looked like the letter had never been mailed.

She broke the seal, pulled the single sheet out of the envelope, and unfolded it. Written in an ornate script, it read:

The letter was signed simply
Katherine.

Maggie folded the paper and slipped it back into the envelope. Take care of what? The letter was undated so there was no way of knowing when it was written.

She put the envelope back into the trunk and slammed the lid shut. Careful to smooth out any traces of foot or handprints, she returned to the first floor.

Two days later, Garrett joined her in the kitchen while she prepared the children’s breakfast. She hid her frustration at not finding any condemning evidence in the house beneath a bright smile.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully. He ruffled his son’s hair and tweaked his daughter’s cheek before taking a seat at the table. Toby was laboring over a drawing and didn’t look up.

“Morning,” she said. Now, as always, his presence struck a chord in her that was hard to ignore. Why he affected her so, she had no idea. She only knew he did.

“I set the sewing machine up in the parlor for you,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, filling his cup with coffee. Confound it! Now she would have to make those blasted curtains.

A stamped envelope stuck out of his vest pocket, but she couldn’t read the address. She spilled the coffee, and he jumped back.

“I’m sorry.” She quickly set the pot back on the stove and reached for a towel.

Their hands touched as he took the towel from her. The brief contact, along with his clean manly scent, sent warm shivers rippling through her, and her mind whirled in confusion.

“You okay?” he asked.

Chiding herself for being so careless, she blinked and forced a smile. Every movement, every word, every facial expression had to be carefully guarded so as not to give him cause for suspicion. Whatever hold he had over her must stop.

“I’m fine. Just clumsy.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “You’re not working today?”

He tossed the damp towel onto the counter and took his seat. “I open late on Saturdays.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t believe it was already the weekend. Never had she known time to fly by so quickly.

He dropped two sugar cubes into his coffee and stirred. “What’s that you’re working on, son?”

Toby lifted his pencil off the paper. “It’s a slingshot. It’ll be two miles high and three miles wide.”

“A slingshot, eh? Why so large?”

“It’s gonna send a man to the moon.”

“Can I go to the moon, Toby?” Elise asked.

“Nah, you’re a girl,” Toby said. “Girls can’t do anything.”

“If a boy can go to the moon, then so can a girl,” Maggie said.

Elise spit her tongue out at her brother. “So there!”

The corners of Garrett’s mouth quirked up. “We’re going to have to watch our step, son. It’s now two against two.” He sipped his coffee before adding another lump of sugar. “So what are you three doing today?”

The moon forgotten, Elise brightened. “Let’s go on a picnic, Miss Taylor. Pleeeeease.”

Going on a picnic was the last thing Maggie wanted to do. As much as she enjoyed the children, caring for them meant less time spent investigating, and that was a downright nuisance.

Garrett watched her over the brim of his coffee cup. “A picnic sounds like a grand idea, don’t you think?”

“Yes, doesn’t it?” Maggie turned toward the stove and poured batter onto the hot skillet. “Too bad you can’t join us.”

“Maybe I can.”

She glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze. For some reason, she suddenly had trouble breathing.

“I think Panhandle can manage the shop for an hour or two,” he said. “Pick me up at noon.”

Elise squealed with delight as she wrapped her arms around her father. The child never failed to bring a smile to his face, and today was no different.

Turning back to the stove, Maggie scooted the spatula under a flapjack and flipped it over. It was strange the way his relationship with his children made her own loss seem so poignant.

As a child she’d prayed her father would change his outlaw ways, but he never did. He didn’t even acknowledge her on the day he hung from the gallows. As they lowered the rope around his neck she yelled, “
I love you.
” She wanted so much to hear those same words from him, but they never came. Instead, he cursed her in that hateful way that he cursed everyone—even God.

Putting criminals away helped to alleviate her shame, but that was before she met Garrett Thomas. Now the thought of taking him away from the children who adored him nearly broke her heart.

Garrett sent Toby and Elise out of the room and joined her at the stove. “Smells good,” he said.

Obviously he had something on his mind, and her mouth went dry. Had she misspoken or made him suspicious?

Forcing an outer calm, she asked, “Would you like me to mail that letter for you?” She’d searched but failed to find an address book anywhere in the house.

“No need,” he said, patting his pocket. “I’ll drop it at the post office on the way to the shop.” He hesitated. “As you know, my former brother-in-law is back in town.” He paused, and she relaxed. Her secret identity was still safe.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “He might try to see Toby and Elise, and it’s imperative that he stays away from them.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Are you saying he means them harm?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just… he blames me for Katherine’s death, and I don’t want him planting ideas in the children’s heads.”

She frowned. “Why does he blame you?”

“He doesn’t believe her death was an accident,” he said, his voice harsh.

“Why would he think such a thing?”

“Probably because it’s true.”

Surprised by his unexpected admission, she stared up at him. Most confessions came after a skillful interrogation by an investigator, but this one fell in her lap. Still, it was only a small breakthrough; it was her job to elicit the rest.

“What happened that night?” she asked. Her voice, the way she looked at him, her very stance was adapted to invite his trust.

Before he could answer, black smoke spiraled up from the stove.

“Oh no!” Removing the skillet from the flame she dumped it into the sink. The flapjacks were burned to a crisp. Worse, their conversation had been interrupted at a most inopportune time.

Garrett flung the windows open, and Maggie wielded a towel to clear the air until only a thin haze of blue smoke remained.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping to reestablish their earlier rapport. She reached for the bowl of batter.

He stayed her hand with his own, and she felt her pulse thud. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, removing his hand. “I’ll get something to eat in town.”

She turned to ask him not to go, but he’d already left.

Slamming the bowl down, she glared at the soggy mess in the sink.

Maggie drove the buckboard through town, reaching Garrett’s shop twenty minutes before the prescribed time.

The children climbed out of the wagon, whispering among themselves.

“What are you two pumpkins up to?” Maggie asked.

Toby gestured to his sister. “Ask her.”

“Ask me what?”

“Can we go to Mrs. Button’s shop?” Elise glanced at her brother. “She always gives us penny candy.”